Sunday, March 30, 2014

The highs and lows of Robert Smith (2010)

Photo by Patrick Calder;

At the 80s-alternative night in the itty-bitty purple-lit club
you talked about a school bus that got melted by lightning.
I said that sounded awesome but kinda sad, and
you said no – no one got hurt so it was just awesome.

Elvis is still alive!
My name is Humpty, pronounced with an umpty.
Robert Smith sang "so wonderfully wonderfully wonderfully wonderfully pretty!"

I drank firefly juice out of a glass with Scottish terriers on it,
got up on the low platform and danced

you were right there, so I was showing off.

I watched your dimples as you laughed with your friends.
You seemed like an enlightened being, like Buddha or Yoda but sexy.
Something in me went warm
and I felt that I had loved you for so long, since before there was time.

You set your hat on the bar, and
my fingers went to the brim before I could stop them.

It was velvety like a rabbit's ear.
It was like some sacred thing.

I danced and I felt that we were
making love with our clothes on and from far away.
I thought how well we'd fit together.

Robert Smith sang "oh I miss the kiss of treachery."

I thought about how you said that love is one thing that doesn't lose strength
when it's spread around, so
I danced and loved everyone

I loved the DJ mouthing along to guilty-pleasure songs...
I loved the tomboy style of the bartender...
I loved the imperious event planner shining her tiny flashlight down as she scribbled notes at the bar – tidy bun and cleavage, business and pleasure...
I loved the guy with the skull bracelet from New Orleans, and the skull tie from Hot Topic...
I loved your beautiful roommate with the T-shirt that says she eats boys.

My hand brushed yours when we passed the dutchie on the left-hand side.

Purple chandelier glow, orange-glitter-padded DJ booth,
Devo hat,
my shouted comments so inane; I need quiet for verbal profundity.
You seemed so sturdy, and I thought about how
you learned that you had continuity, how you would go on as you, even if other people were
no longer there.

I hugged you hard at the end of the night.

We walked to our separate cars – you and your roommate, and me, just me.
I sat down on the curb, 2 a.m. in the ghetto,
feeling the most irrational loss at your absence.

Robert Smith sang "how it ends, always ends," and

I drove home with the sweetest ache.

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