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it’s funny how the mind associates things with other things. how i associate the taste of honey with the smell of your skin. how i can’t help but think of the color of your eyes when i see a thundercloud. i miss the way you’d sometimes stumble over your words when you were thinking too hard. sometimes i think it’s unfair when october rolls around. do you remember how, on mischief night, we made love in the backseat of your rusty pickup truck while those silly twelve-year-olds threw eggs at the windows? remember how the runny wet yolk of one dripped through the crack in the moonroof and landed by the corner of my eye, and how you thought i was crying? and in some ways, i don’t want to look back on the carcasses of jack-o-lanterns left on our doorstep, the ones we forgot about weeks after halloween because we spent days stowed away in our bed, under thick covers, pressed close as one. i don’t want to look back on the way their carved smiles rotted and their eyes melted. the way their insides bruised and stained and decayed. we’d always leave them out until they turned into skeletons. today’s idiom from my chengyu calender read, “one day, three autumns,” meaning when you miss somebody, twenty-four hours can feel like one thousand and ninety five days.
There’s a blue bird in my heart that wants to get out but I’m too tough for him. I say, stay in there, I’m not going to let anybody see you. There’s a blue bird in my heart that wants to get out but I pour whiskey on him and inhale cigarette smoke. and the whores and the bartenders and the grocery clerks never know that he’s in there. There’s a blue bird in my heart that wants to get out but I’m too tough for him. I say, stay down, do you want to mess me up? You want to screw up the works? you want to blow my book sales in Europe? There’s a blue bird in my heart that wants to get out but I’m too clever. I only let him out at night sometimes when everybody’s asleep. I say, I know that you’re there, so don’t be sad. then I put him back, but he’s singing a little in there. I haven’t quite let him die and we sleep together like that with our secret pact and it’s nice enough to make a man weep. But I don’t weep, do you?
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