He needed four things, he said. “You, me, a bed and a day.” It sounded simple, but she knew better. Even if they could find a day, there would be no bed. And she wasn’t fooling herself. They could barely manage an hour together before he was called away. A whole day was a pipe dream. Still, it was a lovely dream, so she allowed herself to believe in it, just for a little while.
What’s so good about science? I asked.
Atomic lego, you said. You said it sheepishly not quite meeting my eye.
It’s like building the universe with bricks, you said.
And you talked, of benzine rings and elements,
Carbons and hydrocarbons, oxygens and nitrogens.
And the words tumbled out from your mouth
As your hands scooped them up and moulded them into
Something a poet might grasp.
Have you paper? Yes? It’s like this…
And out they came. Diagrams spreading across the page like spider webs.
And you talked of ratios and rules. Of complex formulae.
Your eyes, bright, held mine.
It’s just like Lego, you said. Only the right pieces fit together.
A bit like you and I. You said.
Conversation. This is how it goes; I say something, then you say something. Ideally the thing you say would be related to the thing I said, but it’s possible that you’d respond with something random. The key then would be for me to absorb it and bounce it back to you, building a rally of somethings between us. Otherwise it’s just me batting words against a wall and that’s not a conversation, that’s a monologue.
It’s a while since I had something on Paragraph Planet though to be fair it’s a while since I submitted too. This was dashed off in frustration at various people who either never respond or just never really listen… It was featured on the website on Sat 7th Jan 2017.
Basking in the warmth
of a hug, I was brought down
with a jolt, by the rug
pulled from under my feet.
Some days the noise was too much , voices fighting to be heard over the top of each other, demanding her attention: a cacophony of need. Each one had its own particular pain and she felt them all, from the slightest needle prick to the heart-wrenching shudders. She felt her heart would break with it. And then there were the days when the voices sang. Glorious happy days. On those days she loved the voices.
Paragraph Planet Aug 25th 2016