He Said:
I'm not sure what she wants. Seven people across the table from me, six on my side. She glares, I turn to the left and ask a question I don't want to know the answer to. She hovers; glittery smile, witty bon mots, my head spins. The salad leaves are wilted, the salmon too pink, the bread stale. I excuse myself. I'm drinking beer and watching the game on a not too low volume when she finds me. She hovers at the door, wine glass in hand, apprehensive smile. I ignore her and she knows better than to say anything. In the morning the table is spotless, no sign of dinner from the night before, no left overs in the fridge. A white envelope sits accusingly on the counter. I throw it in the now pristine trash can and pour myself a strong coffee.
She Said:
The Saatchi Gallery in Duke of York Square is the largest space in the world dedicated to contemporary art. Did you know that? I didn’t know that. I was too busy pretending to stare at the pieces but hoping to feel the weight of his stare to absorb that. We met here once. It happened once. As if history could repeat itself just because you stand in the same place. People walk by but I am still sick and looking for the same face that haunts me. Instead, I remember the message that said ‘hey’ before I casually replied ‘hey.’ And then he disappeared. And in the big white room, I hosted an imaginary confrontation in my head, and could hear his thoughts and words. Him: ‘What? That was romantic. I thought you’d like that.' I imaginary scream back that the hey was not romantic. Arrogant conceited self centered hey. Throwing breadcrumbs like I am expectant and hungry. But what does it matter anyway, when it was never really love. The same way I told myself, it was never really love that day either, while he leaned into me and over me. It was never love when my hair brushed against his chin. Everything but love. Anyway, I don’t have time for heys or anything else. I am focusing on art right. And life. And installations. And Charles Saatchi’s gallery, the largest space in the world dedicated to contemporary art.
The Saatchi Gallery in Duke of York Square is the largest space in the world dedicated to contemporary art. Did you know that? I didn’t know that. I was too busy pretending to stare at the pieces but hoping to feel the weight of his stare to absorb that. We met here once. It happened once. As if history could repeat itself just because you stand in the same place. People walk by but I am still sick and looking for the same face that haunts me. Instead, I remember the message that said ‘hey’ before I casually replied ‘hey.’ And then he disappeared. And in the big white room, I hosted an imaginary confrontation in my head, and could hear his thoughts and words. Him: ‘What? That was romantic. I thought you’d like that.' I imaginary scream back that the hey was not romantic. Arrogant conceited self centered hey. Throwing breadcrumbs like I am expectant and hungry. But what does it matter anyway, when it was never really love. The same way I told myself, it was never really love that day either, while he leaned into me and over me. It was never love when my hair brushed against his chin. Everything but love. Anyway, I don’t have time for heys or anything else. I am focusing on art right. And life. And installations. And Charles Saatchi’s gallery, the largest space in the world dedicated to contemporary art.
No comments:
Post a Comment