You pad around the house in the small hours looking for the kid’s clothes and I am crazy for you in your t-shirt and underwear and bare feet. You sit in the afternoon light at the kitchen table working at something on the computer, and I am crazy for you as you look over your glasses at me and smile. You sit next to me watching television and I am crazy for you with even just a glance. I wander between offices in a building of glass and my mind flashes on your marine blue eyes and sweet freckles and I am crazy for you.
It is the kind of crazy that holds the heat of the first embers of us that were once a fire. I know you felt it too, once, but now I am not sure. Sometimes I fall down a well of wondering if I have simply made it up. I just don’t know. But it is certainly still hot for me.
Sometimes you seem to show annoyance at it, but I am not sure. There are kids and dogs and people coming to trim the trees; lunches to be made and auditions to go to and mom’s to take care of; sleepless nights that make me tired and grumpy and hard to deal with; school events with social drama that is pointless. There is so much that I can understand it is hard to fit this craziness in. I buy flowers and set up dates to breakthrough the world’s concerns and find the ember together again as we once did in the beginning, but it’s too often like trying to hold back the tidal wave on the beach by holding my hand up.
it is alive in me and I am trying to keep tight on it and so I wonder, Are you?
The question makes me shy and I think it is better not to wave at that wall of water that is coming down, but then I feel impotent and alone. And I’m lost for a moment searching for your hand, grasping at air where I hope to find you.
I remember once a play written by a friend where the husband confessed to his wife that even after all the years of marriage his desire for her was still deep. He had thought it would wear off, but it hadn’t at all and now he was alone because she had grown to stand apart, full and complete. What for him was a need, for her was a choice.
It might have always been that way, but the romance he’d felt in the beginning had bitten him and never let go.
It made him a sad and pathetic character. Too much.
