Friday, August 8, 2008

Breathless



Winter sun glared outside the picture window, pushing a warm blush through closed curtains, hiding the pallid drifts of winter snow. She and I lie breathless under a thick, maroon wool blanket on her front couch ignoring the Jerry Springer show and smoking her dad’s secret stash while he was at work on the Alaskan pipeline. Her hand reached up form the heat and brushed miles of blonde locks from her face as she asked me if I’d marry her, if I’d take her away to an island somewhere in the Caribbean. Take her to where nobody would know us and we could work at a hotel by day and play ska music for the punters at midnight beach parties, languishing together in the balmy nighttime salt spray breezes. The full moon would follow us like the eye of God and the stars would light our way to our own piece of Avalon. But I was too young. She was my best friend, my first smile, breathing heavy, close, asking me to take her away and make her happy. Neither of us spoke any more that day except to say goodnight. Words were paltry things, useless in the mouths of young lovers like us. But we felt more alive than we ever would be. Alive and breathless. The curtains closed to the winter outside; we could have smothered, as we melted together in the heat beneath that thick, maroon wool blanket.


~
 I once won $50 in a poetry contest for reading this prose poem. I present to you the edited version. You know me, I cannot leave well enough alone. That's just not my bag, you know what I'm saying?

So glad to know you all are still here. Talk to you soon.

Peace out.



22 comments:

i beati said...

We are still here and searching for your passion daily You owe us lots !!!!!!

Crashdummie said...

now thats what i call a retro comeback! :)

cheers mate!

Enemy of the Republic said...

Congrats and glad to see ya!

Charles Gramlich said...

Very nice. It evokes both a sense of newness and of familiarity. Good to see you again.

eric1313 said...

Sandy

I owe, I owe, so off to work I go...

Not that this is that tough.


Crash

Retro--yes, very much so. This one is about 7 years old or more, hard to remember exactly.


Enemy

Thank you so much and It's good to be back.

Like always.


Charles

This was about my HS sweetheart, so it was all new and very familiar, all of those nuances are present.

Thanks for the visits, you guys. Talk to you all very soon.

eric1313 said...

Sandy

I owe, I owe, so off to work I go...

Not that this is that tough.


Crash

Retro--yes, very much so. This one is about 7 years old or more, hard to remember exactly.


Enemy

Thank you so much and It's good to be back.

Like always.


Charles

This was about my HS sweetheart, so it was all new and very familiar, all of those nuances are present.

Thanks for the visits, you guys. Talk to you all very soon.

X. Dell said...

Uh-huh! Caught you trying to sneak back onto the Internet.

Welcome back stranger.

Real writers are never satisfied with anything they do, but sometimes they get tired of their own writing. I'm not surprised that you've tinkered with this since. I won't be surprised when you tinker with it again.

Funny. In a lot of literature, the sun has a masculine personna. Interesting to see someone viewing it as female.

Princess Pointful said...

I pity anyone who doesn't feel a pang of nostalgia in reading these words. It is funny how the intoxication of young love seals those details, like red wool blanket, into our minds.

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

You're back.

And sharp and perceptive as ever.

Spoken word and print. Two different mediums. One is sort of elegeaic, the other very hot and actually reacts with the white (orange?) space on the page.
The print version has to be very tight, not a word or phrase wasted or hackneyed. The cliche will out and spoil the piece.

Congratulations on the old gilt of the prize. Old Willie S. said it should always be polished.
And you are so wise in redoing in print frm again.
Dylan Thomas was always rewriting, on the page his play version of Under Milk Wood. You are in good company. I guess he couldn't leave well enough alone either.

You have somehow, miraculously returned. I know from experience that comebacks are almost impossible.

You did 'er, man!

Lana Gramlich said...

He's back, hooray! Lovely post, all around, from the prose poem to the day & night themed images.

Jo said...

Eric, you're baaaack!!! Yay!

That was lovely. It may me think of my high school sweetheart. We never forget our first love, do we?

PS. It's me - Josie. I had to delete my other blog *sigh* but you can link to me through here. I'm glad to see you back!

KarmaLennon said...

I love moments like these-lazy, jumbley afternoons full of promise.

Missed you!! Glad to see you back!

benjibopper said...

sup E?! so glad yer back.

i remember those young promises to make someone happy. now i know you can't make someone else much more than horny. the rest is up to them. so it goes.

singleton said...

Ahhh, Clink!, my friend! You've been very missed.....
And this, a reminder why!
Beautiful!

eric1313 said...

You guys and your comments--I missed it so much


XDell
I'll drop by soon, I'm sluggish but time will be abundant for me to soon spend here in the highest realm.


Princess
This whole poem is red to me, a nice glowing red. It's pure nostalgia. I Have and haven't changed much I think.

Ivan
Glad to see you. I'll be by soon too.

Every person/writer makes youthful mistakes, just the fun ones are rare, and for some reason, harder to remember. But I try!

Lana

Thank you! I slave over every line. I write it fast, but the shaping and perfecting stage is never ever ending.


Benjibopper

I know what you mean.

Suppose I should just feel lucky for simple things like that.

Glad to see you here.


Singleton
And I missed you very much, too.

I miss pure creation
right on these lines
the ones that feed
every word

to our imaginations
wine from the soul

and it's free
if you drink it right here
and share
one cup
at a time

JR's Thumbprints said...

Whenever I hear ska music I think of the nights I'd spent at St. Andrews listening to various bands such as Gangster Fun.

Keep pushing on, my man, keep pushing on.

Crushed said...

First true love?

Its the innocence, the hope the belief anything can be true.

And i think, in love, it can be.

But at this point we're young enough to dream, but not old enough to make them true.

We have to go through the phase of not believing we can make dreams true first.

eric1313 said...

JR

Glad to see you both.

Thanks for the encouragement. Oddly enough, I kinda need it.

Good thing you're there to offer it.


Crushed

Exactly. I felt like anything was possible and that anything could happen as long as I wanted it to happen.

How wrong I was, we all were at that age, playing the adult game while skipping school.

You got it all the way. This one was about a pipe dream, but one that I held as dear as anything at the time.

she said...

what a treat to read you again! -stepped write in to the mood on this one,

thank you! mr poetry, love, ~s.

iamnasra said...

when all said ..dream away once you are in peek of happiness ..how love blosom at first finding

Wordcrafter said...

Lovely.

Princess Pointful said...

And here we are, online at the same time again :)
It feels nicely familiar, as do your words in general.
Hey, it says something that with a whopping 264 unread posts (I really take on too many people's words...), I choose yours to click on, despite the fact that it may be completely out of the order I was supposed to be reading all these unread posts.

It is nice to know that the creative Eric is still floating out there, along with the hard working, non Internetting one.

PS. My team beat your team! Ha ha ha ha ha ha! ;)