Monica Bielanko
That's What She Said
Just A Junk Drawer Dream
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You roared into my life like a runaway freight train. Both of you. You came crashing into my world, I laid startled eyes on your scrappy rockboyness at the exact same moment. Would there be any other way? Your entangled existence, like fingers laced in prayer. An observer of those pleas to god, I am appropriately reverent in your presence.

I share coffee, beer and music here with you, in our neighborhood, left of center. So far left, so far removed from normal that I've nearly forgotten the life that came before. Because your normal is defined as the state of being anything but... My conductor, The Surge, accepted my ticket. Now I'm onboard your runaway train to god knows where, whether I want to be or not.

We slow at the world's stations, enough time for me to glimpse the faces peering at us from their safe, sturdy platform. They long for a ride on our wild train. Your train. Sometimes I have the urge to leap from your speeding locomotive, like someone standing atop a skyscraper idly contemplating the plunge.. No intention of actually jumping, just wondering what it would be like. Mostly, I pity the crowd mired in their normalcy, envying your guitar wars. And I revel in my proximity.

But my closeness doesn't make me revere you any less. My nearness frightens me and I segregate. An eye blink against sunlight, I recede. I am in awe of the path you've carved for yourselves, handing off the scythe when one or the other tires. Grim determination because there is no other option. The same fevered blood pumps through your matching veins urging you, sometimes dragging, you forward.

Do you know where you end and he begins? What you hate about the other is your worst fear for yourself. When you love the other, you love yourself. You can't live with each other, can't live without. You're married in a way I never will be.. I need only witness one exchanged look between the two of you and I know this.

If I didn't love you both I couldn't exist here in left of center. So sometimes I anesthetize my discomfiture with liquor and try to understand. But you don't want or need my validation or comprehension of brotherhood. Although I'm allowed in your inner sanctum I am still a visitor.. and even you are not the Holy Grail.. That's the music. And it belongs to everyone.

Reader Comments (7)


November 9, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterChuebe
Damn you can write girl! Why oh why can't I be eloquent. I'm jealous.
November 9, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterHeather B.
I love that you can write here the things that are so hard to say.

And i love you with something stronger than you even realise.

Every moment that i am alive, I am thinkin' about you, about our train...our ride. And I get so damn excited knowing that we are together in this world. And that we are headed to wonderous places.

It is me who is in awe these days. Keep being yourself, baby. You are my life.

And Max too.

November 9, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterSurge
You have an amazing gift. Ok, two if we're counting ;)
November 9, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterTabatha
tear, guys are awesome...... I only hope I can be half the writer you already are..
November 10, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterJulia

I read this three times through, and each time found something new; a different meaning to a nuanced phrase that I'd missed; an emotion I glosssed over. "Left of center..."

What a powerful piece. Really.

November 10, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterBrian
Wow. Rock on my friend, rock on...
November 11, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterPretty Pretty

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