The Eccentric Encounter
June 16, 2007
He moves away from that which causes unrest, a comfort seeker within his own mind. The outer play of light and shadows matter not–unless that inner realm is touched too deeply or forced to move beyond what he identifies as home. A nebulous area yes, the defining lines hard to describe but intuitively known.
How did he go about erecting these sometimes jagged walls and uneven planes that make up the particular strangeness of his structure? Was it the parental hand brought down in anger or the impossible movement of a solitary blade of grass? A kind word in that moment of utter desperation, a remembrance of a lifetime so close yet so other.
Today, now, he walks towards a bench sprinkled with the shade of an overhanging elm. His thoughts separate him from the physicality of flesh coming to rest on the cool slats of painted wood. So wrapped up is he that the arrival of a young woman at the far end of the bench barely permeates his countenance.
“I’ve seen you here before.” The words are far off and seem as if at the end of a tube. He turns to see her mouth moving and lets the sound move through him.
“I come here a lot to listen to the birds and read au naturale. Hard to find a place like this in the city.”
He looks away, leaves on the dirt a mosaic of shapes.
“Anyway thought I’d introduce myself since I’ve seen you out here so much.”
Silence scoops them up and cradles the space between and within them.
“I know…”, he begins, the oooo hanging in the air, mantra-like and extending outwards.
“…sweet-smelling orange blossoms lift me up,
lay me back down,
honeydew and honeysuckle tickle my lips,
transposing smile upon frown.”
She waits. He extends his legs outward and swings them underneath the bench.
“I see…”, she starts, mimicking his extended vowel, an eeee cutting though the space.
“…crestfallen faces upon those who lose,
a brother or mother,
can it be, can it be?”
He looks up and meets her eyes, inner edifices shifting, expression slackening.
“I want to go home,” he says keeping her gaze.
“And that you shall,” she returns eyes ablaze.
“I need that sense,” starts he.
“Release of tense,” parts she.
Find more eccentricities…