animal magnetism

a hello from the other side.  i was walking in the straight sunlight, it's a very cold day, senses insulated from all the layers.  a shadow of someone walking past startles me, then i feel something on my leg, it's a black and white cat who had apparently run to catch up and bonk my leg.  cats are so often dispassionate and take-it-or-leave-it, must be important!  black and white like an old baby cat i had, corner missing from her ear.  she just wanted to say hello, but i take to mean right place/right time. and clare.

this fresh off one of those good life moments, in an eatery alone on a busy holiday, sit at the bar and stir.  no reading materials, must look must talk.  the gentleman beside me is reading love in the time of cholera and asks me to watch his place while he goes to the loo.  i tell him i'm going to read his whole book while he's gone, and this gives us an opening to have some stranger-talk upon his return.

what was best that he said was "i just got to the point in this book where i know why the person who gave it to me gave it to me"
"why did they give it to you?"
"there's this character florentino that loves a woman for 50 years and then her husband dies"
"the person who gave this to you is a married woman isn't she"
"well not married but--"
"her hand is taken"
"yeah"
"so the implication is you'll wait? how awesome is she? i'd be like 'i've got better things to do!', 'fucking florentino, huh!'"

then he says something about the establishment we're in being so civilized (he's from canada) and i feel uncouth, though i am right.  i can't believe he got the meaning.  how brazen of her to impart it.  but i get it.  hands be tied, still the heart moves.  i get it.  it was a very lovely edition of the book.  it must be thick between them.

so then before that just oolong and oysters, so nice and high.  toast to MLK.

black water good

the last black waters in a dream i saw six years ago.  canoeing down oil black mirrory waters, a river in new jersey.  trees arching overward with boughs balletic over the river center, arching healthily and strongly.  holding the space for the beloved to pass underward.
the seed of a song, this was, because the man in my dreams six years ago wasn't more than a harbinger, and the beloved was in me as was the song.
but it taught me the goodness of the signal. 

the restaurant we love

became in my dream the other night a boathouse.  i know when i see black water in my dreams how good it is.  how much this signals love, good love, lover, good lover.   there's something about the black water, pooled so full with dreams of love that it's absorbed all the colors of it.  the kaleidoscopic imagination of love is in that water.

it's perfect almost a boathouse anyway, it has a wooden quality, with low light of oil and its limited supply on open water, sunken ceilings of secrets. and out back there was a big square boat waiting. and a smaller paddleboat for navigating the smaller ways.  a broader river flowed directly out back and a narrower way crossed it. 

it's time to find out what true true true true true love is all about.  like a thick key clicking in the lock are the lyrics to my new favorite song.  i can't think about the words too much or they'll stop speaking to me.  but my love is real.