A piece of biographical prose about distance
|I once saw a satellite fall from the sky. It sounds like a lie doesn't it? Of the fiction variety, always well intentioned and written to entertain. It's the truth though.
I was laying in bed with my blue eyed disaster of a second lover. A city boy who spent too much time on his hair. Who had a scorpion and tarantula mounted under glass and displayed on his bed's headboard. Looking back the warning signs were clearly on display.
Small windows, in that basement apartment I called sometimes home. One by the bed where I could watch the stars on those nights I couldn't sleep. I would be hurting or angry and this was before I started to think the stars had nothing more to show me. I was taking too many astrology courses for an art student.
I can't remember now if I was watching the stars because I was happy. Like when I put up a tiny two foot tree for our first Christmas, the first I wasn't spending at home with my family. I'd covered it with silver tinsel trying to hold onto those bright memories, one strand at a time, that had crafted every Christmas before.
Or maybe I was sad. Like when he wouldn't stop complaining about the tinsel. As though every strand were some sort of stain he wouldn't be able to get out. Then, on Christmas Eve, he told me he didn't want to love me because my arms were too fat but couldn't understand why I was sad on Christmas morning.
Happy or sad I was watching the stars which are particular beautiful that far north. The fall was sudden. Just like a shooting star is lost with a single blink. No star, this! It was far too big. For a second there was a ball of fire nearly lighting up the sky and then it was gone. I told my lover and he didn't believe me. But that was the nature of the man. A state of constant undermining disbelief.
I still think about that satellite. I don't watch the stars anymore. There's no time and time has left me a little less in love with wondering. I'm alone now and often feel like I'm floating. Surrounded by my art and caught up with the dialogue inside my own head.
I feel like a satellite sometimes. Somewhere far away and quiet. My computer keeps the world at my fingertips but always somewhere beyond reach. It's like all the lines of circuit boards are the electric lines of a never ending city that connect us all like the darkness between the stars.