miércoles, 19 de diciembre de 2012

Future Memory 2

I’d get a hotel near Central Park, a few streets away.
I’d walk to the bus station to wait on you arriving.
Five days with each other wouldn't be enough.

I've known since I first saw you in the back room of that cafe
That I wanted to know you for a long time.
Never thought it would happen.

It's been six months since we last met and I'm quivering inside,
It's not just the cold.
I am impatient and the sadness is a permanent thing now
That sits with the joy of anticipation.
Each meeting overshadowed by the inevitable parting.

Maybe this time you'll change your mind.
Maybe this time you'll want to come back west with me.
It's milder there even if it is much further north.

I know you just dyed your hair yesterday.
I know what you had for breakfast.
I know how your bus journey has been.

It’s the memory of your hands,
Your landscape and your sighs, your noises.
Your smell, your textures, your glow.
I’ve missed them, I want them.
I need them.

I've bought you something for Christmas.
A belated minding, just a little thing.
It's in my pocket and I put my hand around it
As I stand up from the bench
As the bus pulls in.


The first future memory was written off the cuff, as most of my twitter writing is, during a text conversation with a friend. Shortly afterwards as I read it back I realised that although it was something that I wanted to happen it was imaginary, a fantasy. However it felt real, it felt like something that was possible, that could actually happen in a few weeks and resonate backwards through time, like a memory from the future, rather than of the past. So I wrote another, set in a different city. Another meeting, another possibility, another memory from further in the future. The idea took shape from there, to explore a relationship between two people as different iterations of meetings in different cities as the years go by, alternative takes on each meeting. So the project has begun and with some work and luck and inspiration and the cooperation of my various muses there will be a book next year, or the year after. Perhaps. Or perhaps not. It all depends.


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