Bent Words

Bent Words

October 19, 2007

She sees it now because it beckons anew…

What she had, what they had and what never had a chance to fully become. There’s a stranger in her midst, reminding her of what could have been, what she still sometimes thinks should have been and what she claims to have never had a right to.

Where she should be is riding. In the dirt, on the pavement, overriding her abilities and ending up in the grass (safely). Bending his mirror as she passes by, reaching for that engine cutoff of switch, crunching the remnants of his roost in between her teeth. Wiggling her ass in the foreground, forgetting to turn on time, waiting for him to catch up or trying to keep up with all her might. Misunderstanding the relentless use of his rear brake in corners, watching his face light up at the stop sign after a determined wheelie, requesting one more moment of tenderness before tiredly putting the toys away.

That’s where she should be.

Righting all the wrongs that pass through their days, laughing off the inevitable, patronizing those who would not understand and proving all of them unproductive. Planning rides and routes and courses – meeting with old friends, making new ones without hesitation, forgetting the risk and fighting for the fire.

Getting lost and getting to know each other, resting a hand on a restless knee, following the sun as it sets on their potential and pulling over for the simple fact that “this place looks good.”

That’s where she should be.

Spinning with him in outer space – caught beneath the stars before the light catches their tired eyes. Her shoulder holding his head as he proclaims his exhaustion. Her fingers caressing his skin as he heals. Her eyes seeking his truth as he lays it all on the line. Her tenderness marking his wellness, his future, his pride, his determination. Her strength mirroring his own. His survival guiding her hopes, desires and happiness.

She should be there, planning the next part. Purchasing the next bike, making room for that addition to their family, forging the way of their next destination. Compressing forks and securing handlebars with care and grrrrr, finding the best forests to surrender to, making the best paths out of dust and dirt, gaining more intuition for next set of twists and turns, standing tall towards hills and falling into place on the other side. Lost but never losing their way. Stuck but never without idiotic pleasure.

Never giving up, never giving in, never comprising all the fear for what is right.

Riding without resistance. Rolling with absolution. Planning for the future. Incapable of losing something she could never replace. THAT’S where she should be. Set in his security, swimming in his goofiness, melting with his kiss, touched by his tone, comparing arm pump, settling into sleep with his team in the lead, Bloody Marys on the rooftop of some (San Diego) Californian bar, sunsets on the weekends, stupid and sublime, football and theater, family and solitude, passion and play.

That’s where she should be.

If only she could have been.

Written at 9:53 p.m.