Monica Bielanko
That's What She Said
Just A Junk Drawer Dream
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To Surge, With Love

I movie love you. Fuck Frank & Ava.. Spencer and Katharine too. Bogey and Bacall don't register on the richter scale of this love quake. You suck the life from a room when you leave. The emptiness in your wake is as affecting as your winsome personality. You light me up like a Christmas tree, a jackolantern, a pinball machine. Ironic that you are my lighthouse.

Since you've been gone there is no more touching feet in the wee, small hours. I can't hear you sigh your dreams as the purr of the fan accompanies your not so gentle snores. I'm on your side of the bed, but I'm out here all alone.

My eyes dilate as I hurl through the blackness of our separation, sweeping across nondescript towns nestled in the square states.. until I locate you in my dreams. What city is it tonight, my love? And tomorrow? Where will you be then?

As I walk our dog down barren Brooklyn streets, we think of you. Since you've been gone he's misplaced his giddyup. Even his bird chasing lacks it's usual flair. He scuttles after squirrels like an ol' boy twice his age.

You flavor the air with Surgeness. Funny voices, spot on impressions, made up country songs are crooned as you bask in the sizzle of your signature stir fry you're happily cooking for the third time in as many days.

Sometimes I fear I don't deserve you, but I'ma goin' ta keep you anyway because I don't belong anywhere else. Even when we weren't together, when we were with other people we were desperately trying to squish into our preconception of The One, we belonged to each other.

Don't let me beat you down. I'm good at that. It's what you do when you've been beaten down so much you learn to pre-empt the anticipated beatdown with your own special brand of dysfunction.

Keep peeling this onion. I know it's unpleasant work that often makes you cry. The onion can be overpowering in her raw state. But if you keep at it, nudging her gently toward her potential, flavor her just right, she is delicious.

Reader Comments (10)


Tomorrow we start heading east, baby.

I am coming home! Pull the blinds and get Max a bone....I am coming home.

I hear your voice in the pumping of gas.
February 5, 2006 | Unregistered CommenterSurge
Wow, that made me cry in the best way. The post and the reply. Must go hug husband now.
February 5, 2006 | Unregistered CommenterEDW
Le' Sigh. I want. No, I need, a love like that.

This made me all verklempt. *sniff*
February 5, 2006 | Unregistered CommenterAmy
Awww thanks girls.. I don't mean to sound smarmy.. I still tell him to go to hell at least once a week.. two or three times if he isn't on the road.
February 5, 2006 | Unregistered CommenterMonica
I assume this is a play on words? I am amazed that you are familiar with either the movie or the song To Sir, With Love. Sidney Poitier is one of my favorite actors. Beautifully written.
February 5, 2006 | Unregistered CommenterSloopy
I want, I need it and I'm gonna get it! Love will come to me when the time is right.
February 5, 2006 | Unregistered CommenterSuyin
Love will come to you after much heart break, many tears and lotsa years dear girl.. You gotta long row to hoe... Ain't easy, but it'll be worth it..

Sloopy - Love both the song and the movie.. To Sir, With Love and Guess Who's Coming To Dinner are my favorite Poitier movies.. too bad they made that abomination with Ashton Kutcher..
February 5, 2006 | Unregistered CommenterMonica
Monica, This is one of your best. Best.
February 5, 2006 | Unregistered CommenterWry Bri
This was simply beautiful. Not smarmy at all. I love how your writing swings from edgy to lyrical and back again. I never know what I'm going to get each time I log on.
February 6, 2006 | Unregistered CommenterAimee
monica, I do think that was your best yet. absolutely.
February 6, 2006 | Unregistered Commentermama

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