i can’t stop having these visions of love. children around me. flowers in our garden and the ocean in the back yard. i walk out in to that time before it turns into morning while you are still sleeping. no one asks me to be mother or girlfriend. i am no one but to myself. and in that moment I ask what is it i wanted when you were a little girl. was it to be like your mother? or your grandfather? your father? Elizabeth Taylor? Michael Jackson? the wife of Adam? the girl of Joshuea? the whale that swallowed Job?
i remember it was a strange wish. it was to be invisible and yet seen at the same time. it was to sit my family down and stand before them. my adoring audience to tell them jokes and make them laugh as it was to slip under the radar of beatings and the watchful eyes of the ones vested with the job of keeping order. even a slight peek in the radar meant a lashing. so i kept quiet and a low profile for most of my childhood. i wonder who i would have been without that threat. we all had some threat whether that be bullies at school or monsters in the dark.
i touch a flower. put it into my mouth and pass it between my lips. it’s smooth like that desire to be visible and unseen. it’s like having superhuman powers. superman. i wanted to be a superhero.
what an impossible goal, i think. and i don’t know if i want it anymore. it makes me panic when i cross the road. “is it because cars will hit you?” I answer, “No. Because I am being seen.”
I am an exhibitionist and a guilty one at that. it’s a contradiction. a crazy one.
how does one meld two different realities. a split personality? marry them.
when my children wake and my lover finds me wandering the grounds, i’ll have to tell him of this new engagement. me myself and a superhero sent to save us. me.
kiss me, let me hold you to me, pull your clothes to my face and smell…tell me you’ll love me still even if i am crazy a little or a lot.