What I Read At Raquette

For anyone who cares!

I call this creative nonfiction. Because, well, it's true.

5.8/9.9.07 – Still.

My eyes burn. I step outside into cool night air. There is no breeze. The smoke from downstairs is subdued and the laughter calming from drunkenness to tiredness.

I want to smudge my eyes with dark eyeliner and look at you behind masked and falsely thick lashes. It might feel right.

But nothing will happen tonight.

It is a May night and the sun will burn this summer. I will write every day. I will laugh and you won’t laugh with me. People will die. I will dance.

Right now I am doing none of those things.

Right now the wooden seat creaks and I'm too tired to wonder how many people have sat in it before. Probably laughing. Probably drunk. At 11:30 there’s not much to view. Scattered students stumble over sidewalks. A car comes to the corner, slows, passes, silence.

For once in my life I am at the perfect height. Up here on the balcony, I can witness it all without needing to stand on my toes.

Otherwise I type in small windows so I can see what is going on.

There is a light on in your window, I know.

I would not usually be so vague, but there is nothing specific to say. I would like someone to come around the corner and up this shadowy road. I would like them to wave to me. Call my name. Sit up here with me for awhile, in silence.

Because I've done enough work. I would like to be amazed right now. I would like to be engaged, fascinated. To one day do the kind of work that makes me eager to be where I am with who is there. And perhaps we’ll have a conversation worth remembering. Worth thinking about. Worth continuing.

It won’t be right now.

The traffic light flashes red and yellow.

I type in small windows to remind myself of perspective.

It is time to sleep, I tell myself, and go into bed, but not to bed.

I want to walk down the road and around the corner.