THE MONTH OF THE FLOWER BED
THE MONTH I FELT LOVED ONLY THREE TIMES
THE MONTH HE SAID HE LOVED ME AT THE BUS STOP AND WE BOTH CRIED.
2.14.2010
Valentines day//fashion week/newyork
He said:
"sit next to me on the front row, I’m going to be busy all day though, all these shows..."
It was this time last year, it was fashion week and I was keeping quiet about being sick.
"take someone else." i smiled at him as i said it.
he looked down at his iphone and shook his head.
"would you like some whiskey? i had it delivered because you are in town"
he hugs me, we both laugh.
he asks me what perfume i have on today
he says he likes it
(i was wearing his cologne that day, mixed with SPF 60)
" I just smell like you is all, that’s why you like it"
he pours a glass for himself and I start looking for my leather jacket
he tells me to just wear his
the heater was making scary noises so we kept it off that winter
the lower east side looked alot like Eastern Europe from my window
snow was dirty, bricks were old, sky was dark, cats looked starving
The whiskey was almost gone. He looked so handsome.
I try on a white dress.
he makes a joke about marrying me in the spring.
I put on dark lace underneath; over this i drown myself in his jacket again.
Walking out the door
he tells me to wear dark lipstick
(which i thought was romantic)
most men never want to get lipstick on their mouth
or dress shirt in public
He thought it was beautiful on me.
I would speak in french lots more if i had on dark lipstick
very messy french but he never noticed.
we stand on the corner of orchard and both our arms fly up to hail cabs.
i look away because i don't like goodbyes, even the small ones.
as we are waiting, he starts pacing.
"im so sorry I’m missing Valentines Day, please sit next to me at the show, just come with me lola, just get in the cab, just be with me, just go"
he said it so sweetly, but i felt cold.
And for some reason that day,
i just wanted to walk around and be alone.
I give him my cab,i tell him i need to walk and think.
I didn’t care that my shoes were pretty and high
i didn’t care that it was wet and cold and snowy outside.
I walked to the Chelsea hotel, which was my usual home away from home turned home.
My room was taken, so i sat behind the front desk with the clerks.
They shared secret stories with me
stories of the 3rd floor
Sid and Nancy, Dylan, and the ghosts that are still checked in also still addicted to heroin.
We looked through the lost and found
i think i told them about how i was getting sick and it was getting worse
they told me i should rest more and get some sun
and eat a bit of meat for once in my life.
they told me he must love new york more than he loves me.
they told me what i already knew.
and how could i blame him? i've never been an island.
maybe a dream, but never an island of dreams the way new york is.
around 3 am he met me on 29th and 9th
we walked to a bodega because he wanted to see me
he kept saying he was sorry
now i know that:
i should have been the one crying,saying
"my god im so,so sorry"
2 months go by
the walk we took,the walk where i told him i wasnt good for him and he wasnt good for me
the walk he told me i wasnt myself anymore,that i was cold.
he tried to tell me that i didn't mean these things i was thinking and saying lately
"its just the sick talking" he was getting upset
i
pause
i
look at him in the eyes and the words:
"no, no, no ..........its me" they slip out of my mouth and he just stands there and bleeds.
i moved away a few months later,due to health failing.
July came and i was sitting in a car in California
i was seeing someone new
i was feeling love again but
realized i was feeling the memory of love
not real love.
i remember the sickness was growing
my memory was going
from time to time new york would call and i would pick up weeping
he told me he was worried and oneday if i got better
maybe we could love again
he told me to have some hope in what could be
but it was not hope I was lacking
hope always remains
it was the lesson i was learning
it was the death, burial and resurrection that had to take place inside of me
and because i had to die to myself, i needed to do this alone
I sent him a letter last year that he threw away
i sent him a prayer that he told me not to pray
he said it was all such a huge slap in the face
the things we learn on valentines day.
