Thursday, June 14, 2012

hand-cranked ravioli of mascarpone-honeyed dreams

what if zeus reads this and thinks, "eh, she's way too blabby," or "oh, god, i don't even understand a third of what she says, her words are so goddamn gargantuan, and that's not even my word, i hain't understand that"?

a big problem has been my insistence on dumbing myself down in writing. a few times when we were out he'd shrug his hand out of mine and rail at me for thinking i'm so smart, for thinking i can catch him with his dumb on, for thinking he's awesome when clearly he's just a mexican, for trying to make him into some kind of reading, thinking upper-middle-class guy earning $60K or more a year in collared shirts. it stung, every last upbraid. he was my best friend, and i never choose a best friend who's even kind of an idiot.

maybe i looked at him funny, and i tried not to; i could feel my face pulling taut and would force it smooth, but i've heard all my life that my eyes are cold know-it-all algae smothering the life out of everything. so maybe i did that, or maybe he imagined it, or maybe my entire face went tee-hee, wow, that's really not what i expected of someone our age!

it's particularly bad right now. i'm scathingly indulgent when it comes to breaking my bones so i never show him who i really am, or he'll leave. if i use a word he deems much too undecipherable, what will he do? start a series of domino runs and watch them tumble Niagara in delirium?

are my dainty chains of vermeil words enough to break my fall? i've been my own demise ever since he gathered my hands in his and said, "i would be honored to be in your autobiography, real name and all"--

--i've always worried that once it's ready he'll tell me it'll ruin his life, that that promise is broken...

...but if i break what we have worrying, what's there gonna be to write?

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