Search party for one; fluid into the night, flexibly concise communication. “Ha! Not here.” Stringing broken sentences into crafty idioms and lofty assertions. The ghost sentences and dead-end or two, birth a new essay. Now, as I re-read my fragmented odyssey, I stop just before I push delete. “Wait!” Soak in the moment. Now freeze frame, a snapshot, a ‘fly on the wall’ realization of myself.
Closer inspection is due. I am pink like a Greek letter drunk romantic; optimistic, but not so green that I might end up blue. I often throw caution to the wind and then plunge head-first into my heart’s own end. Clumsily modest, an introspective pessimist crushing on Optimism’s best friend. A string of words, a line in a bar. A kaleidoscope of emotion translated through color and pattern. Time becomes texture and connection takes shape. Before memory melts, vibration as picture book; in burnt dark edges, I find a muse. And then simulate, where words couldn’t communicate.
Hmmmm, just had to get that out, or something.