Saturday, July 09, 2005
little treasures
i pulled on a pair of jeans the other day. i had not worn them in ages. i found five dollars in the pocket. i found this small treasure on the same night that i lost another. my boy is free, i am alone. i have to smile for him even as i frown. my mind plays tricks. i imagine that i had lost that five dollars in those pants on the night that i met my boy. i imagine that my boy is some magic five dollar genie - and i have now used up all my wishes. The genie is gone. All i am left with is the original five dollars. Is it a consolation prize or a condolence note? It buys me a beer, and i drink it slowly.
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3 comments:
you are beautiful
Poetic ironies.
Tidy symbolism.
Are these aesthetic consolations - these fictions we make of our lives - satisfying? Are they masochistic? Are they better than the meaningless arbitrariness of life events.
How can we resist the mythologising of our pain? Of ourselves and others? Why would we try?
I know that you are right to watch the little things. There is comfort in little things. There is rebirth.
Because she's a beautiful and dangerous city - and she won't let us underestimate her.
xx
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