I went into the kitchen smoked a cigarette, singing the lord's prayer and a hail Mary with wisps of smoke. I took an acetaminophen with a swallow of water from the icebox. In the bathroom I wet a cloth cool and wandered into Caroline's bedroom to rest.
I lost my nerve in Union Station. It was rush hour perhaps so many people moving in and out like tides of the ocean I wanted to be so close too. I didn't know where I was going there was a bucket drummer and two guys playing jazz on competing platforms wearing alien masks. And I told myself I wasn't going to cry but I did. The frustration was condensating in my bones and I just hoped that I was as invisible and faceless as I felt. On the PATH back to Caroline's apartment I boarded with a beautiful girl. She was tall and her skin was flawless. I sat in the corner of the car and she flashed a smile at me. I smiled back. She noticed me crying and she slid closer to ask why. I mumbled something about just wanting to go home and she said me too. Her name was Joy, she had just moved to the city for art school from Atlanta. She missed her friends, wasn't used to the city, felt like she hadn't met anyone who was just kind and laid back. She had been on her way to a gallery opening but standing in the line, started crying and decided to retreat to her apartment. She felt so alone. I listened and nodded. "You're the nicest person I've met so far." You too, Joy, you too.
I am not a tough cookie, say perhaps a ginger snap. I am a soft boiled egg out of the shell, I am a bleeding heart pumping in your hand. I am not weak, no this is not what I am saying. I know I am strong, but my strength is not the kind of strength that is brash or physical or maybe even all that useful. It is as variable as light or water. I use it in my ears to catch your words, spoken and silent. In my eyes as I read your face your skin. It's in my voice when I recite a poem or sing a song. In my diaphragm laboring over laughter. In my hands when I massage your neck, back and feet. In my arms and back when I lift you off the ground for a spinning glee filled hug.
"Sing, if you can sing, and if not still be musical inside yourself."
--Mary Oliver, More Evidence
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