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Purgatory - Sunday, Feb. 10, 2019
Monday, Mar. 06, 2006 @ 4:41 pm
Sunrise, I ride past elementary schools, I'm so out of tune with you, last night we fought just as ex-lovers should. You're not my friend.
I push it away, through the pedals, into the gears, leaving it on the pavement behind me. With hope of growing muscle, I run deep into the ravine, losing the trail as I hop along the sandbanks of the stream. I crawl up the steep forested bank, find a trail along a ridge and jog out between fenced yards. Tangled ravine to manicured suburbia. Minutes ago my heart raced with fear of the darkness deep in the gully. Now: safety.
How long until someone is released from your heart?
On a rainy Sunday I need to be cared for. His nicely chopped red pepper in the enchilada sauce. Pouring tea wearing underwear. We sit down and play Schubert together, pulling the leaver down to release the honky-tonk for Joplin, and I know that the neighbours can hear the flute and piano, in tune to each other but hopelessly out of tune.
In the last few weeks we've chased each other down black diamonds on Mount Baker. We rolled the wheels off of my van, changing the brake pads. We went overtown to the Naam for dinner and were seated at the same table we sat at on our second date. We've climbed snowy mountains, fitting crampons onto our boots. We've made pilafs and soups, pancakes and casseroles. Forever at the kitchen table, idling over wine or tea, spoon in hand.
I told him that I feared how much I was becoming to need him. He said he's always be there, and I could believe that he meant it. So now what? It was too easy.
I am back with Poncho in the cross-ties. The women from the valley say that he seems calmer around me. I'm happy there, that's my happiest time. Walking from the paddocks in the winter sunshine, winds blowing from the southwest, thick rope in my hand and Poncho alert and shaking his shaggy mane in the gusting wind. My favourite things in life are these: horses' warm skin and hearts on a brisk sunny winter day. Subalpine meadows and everything I need to survive on my back. Lupines in the air. Floating on the surface of the ocean, cold waters, looking towards the mountains of the mainland, rolling over and under with bursting lungs and green beams of light.
Work? I like the lab. You know, it's not my heart but it's sensible. Boiled potatoes. Converted rice. Frozen corn.