Saturday, August 12, 2017

los angeles lately :: pt. 7 :: west hollywood

I followed you to where something caught your eye,

watching my steps and making a point to keep a distance.


Fine lines.

My life is a plateau of fine lines
that seem to circulate in priority with each rolling day.


As your eyes shifted along what was before you, 

I wandered away for a handful of moments.


It was as I stood on my toes to peer closely at some words

that I felt someone--you--behind me.


It was a small thing,

too subtle for even the closest eye witness.

The way you stood in ease, 

slightly to the side of my body, 

finding me to say that we should go.

A normal, nothing thing.

All the sweetness found solely in the fleeting proximity, of an assumed comfort.


I let my feet fall flatly --

a deliberate, split second choice to lean into whomever was standing so near.


It was the first time there was ever any contact between us.

Your arm touched mine as you leaned in to look closely -- another 
millisecond lost along the edges of a fine line.


The half of me that leaned in briefly knew it was you --

I am half intuition, half hope.

Yet in the few seconds following the brush of the arm, 

I quickly stepped away and claimed that I assumed you'd been a stranger who got too close.


"Well, I sort of am a stranger."


To which I agreed.

And will continue to agree.


You are a man who is such a knot of beautiful and worn out fine lines that I don't need to be told 
where my place is.


Half intuition, remember? 


I won't stand too close,

not to your ledge.


Which is why the single moment in time was made up of a millisecond --

because we are strangers 

with different ledges to leap from,

and lines to walk,

and knots to be caught up in.


And West Hollywood is just too small a world if you ask me.

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