One evening of frivolous musings, surely a case of the impermeable romantic...



Ah, finally. The moon is out, the dog is fed, the gates are closed and I can ramble alone with my thoughts. I've got to get out of this place. The pump won't work because the vandals took the handles. I know where love lives. You can keep your mountains of gold, buddy, because I know where love lives. Don't look back, jump forward into the glorious future. Promises of Spain and warm days in the sun and long, velvety nights under the stars and under the sheets. Catch the passion now. Catch a falling star. See the shooting star.  Ride upon a star. Hang your hat on a star; carry moonbeams home in a jar. Whatever.

"I think about you all the time," you say. "From now on, we are 'we'. Don't look back because it will make you dizzy. Trust me. Trust me now. Tomorrow will never come if you don't accept today. Today is me. Tomorrow is me. You are me. You are mine. Please, listen to the words and you will hear me," you say.

"But," I say, "where have you been for so long? I've been waiting for you to save me and you never came. Was that you on that white horse when I was locked up in that tower? When you rode up closer, I didn't realize it was you and so I continued to wait. I think I'm still waiting, but I'm not so sure anymore."

You say, "it really was me on that white horse," but I say, "there have been herds of white horses and legions of knights and now I'm not sure if it's really you...again." I don't know if it matters because the dragons aren't that tough anymore and perhaps all the knights are standing in the unemployment line, or in the wax museum. And for sure, the moat is now filled with alligators.

You say you think of me all the time, since that day when I walked into your life by accident. What's all the time anyway? When you brush your teeth in the morning? When you say your last prayer in the evening? And all time in between? When is it that you think of me all the time? That's a long time, don't you think?" I don't want to think anymore. I coast. I roll. I'm waiting to crash on the shore.

Why on God's green earth do you want to save me? My blue eyes, maybe? Can you see inside of me? Hello! Am I home? I don't think so. I left a long time ago. Lonely Rita, meter maid, where would I be without you?

"I want to be a woman," I say. "But you are a woman," you say, "and I'm a man." (I can see that, really. I can.) "I want to lock the doors for you at night. I want to bolt the windows for you. I want to protect you from invaders," you say.

And I say, "Where have you been all those years when I was locking my own doors and bolting my own windows and bravely protecting myself from invaders?"  Actually, when I think about it, I've always left milk and cookies out for any intruder who dared. "I think it's too late," I say.

But you won't quit. You tell me it's not too late. "I see you cooking breakfast. I'm messing up your hair. I want to make you laugh. Laughter is  you. Love is you," you implore.

I'm exhausted with possibilities. I tell you, "I'm not sure I want to cook you breakfast or have you mess up my hair. I'm. Not. Sure. Of course you don't take no for an answer and what I really think is that you want to ride this roller coaster and dive into these eyes that you think you recognize but you don't because others have tried and failed, and even I have given up the quest to understand the black and white behind the baby blues. Good luck, my friend.

My mother told me to wait for the right man but for the life of me, I'm not sure I understand the fantasy anymore. Was it the white castle with the black knight on the wrong horse? Oh, Alice, we should have been friends...into the looking glass we go.