Sunday, January 20, 2013

Just Love Her Loudly

Marie Taylor Marx
smoked her third cigarette in the backyard where there's too much open space and not enough silence.
While she discretely lit it, she reminisced of days of running around from house to house, playing capture the flag and hide and go seek. She remembers that these games never lasted as long as she wished they did. And  remembers laughing at jokes she didn't quite yet understand; she thinks it sad now. The boys had lists and she wanted to be accepted in the circle but age made strict boundaries. Anyways, those lists were all ridiculous rankings of the females the boys of the street had known. Maybe if they spent less time writing down names of pretty girls and instead mustered the courage to speak to them face to face, maybe they would get somewhere.
Marie slid the pack in the pocket of her coat and breathed in and out the unwanted mix of air and smoke.
She brought it to her mouth again and again, contemplating its purpose to her; then, contemplating her purpose too. She laughed thinking of how just the other night, when she was choking through her second, when the lighter didn't work...
"Are you kidding me? You are a lighter, you have one purpose, and one purpose only. That purpose is to produce a flame. Humour me: light up my life."
She was hysterical, Marie is enthusiastic about identifying irony in everyday life and isn't afraid to speak out about it. So, "light up my life" she thought was a good kicker, after all because a cigarette's sole purpose is to shorten lives; the darkening of lungs. She thought of her pretty lungs.
"If they're so pretty, if i'm so pretty than why doesn't he care?"
He is like the lighter. He lights her up, and she's the cigarette, soothing and suave, romantic even and when she's down to the filter in demand...
All that is left is the staleness of the smell of smoke in her hair, in her clothes, in her being.
She is rotten with thoughts that wrack her brain causing hemorrhages; the soreness of hope being crushed.
Wait, but isn't he the cigarette too?
Could she ever really understand his thinking...there's a goal.
Her downfall is her unfailing attraction to handsomely grown beta men who are actually boys who are actually just drones.
And she'll believe this is so until proved wrong.
Will he prove her wrong?
To do so is quite easy...
Just be there. Just show up. Just love her loudly. Just be there.

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