last night he called.

today he sat next to me on the benches and asked how saturday went (he had heard about it// from my friends) and today (the boy i do math problems with) asked me how it went with him (thinking i picked monks over table dancing) and saying you&him have been seeing each other every weekend for a long time, right? (yes,) like he was surprised they were all surprised. then he came up to me while i was talking to my friends, i turned over my shoulder and he was there just standing looking at me. and somewhere my friends disappeared and we walked and talked about, oh, i couldn.t even tell you. about the cd and i liked it and all the people passed around our eyes and we only noticed one.

do you really want to hear about it?

because//

i just wish. for every sad moment. it.s so pathetic. but that i could be the one. i remember the first time he told me that it hurt. that it killed. that he wasn.t ok. "call her when your sad," that.s one of the ways to win her into your heart, it read.

because i could play him i�ll see you soon (if i couldn.t be there). because sometimes things need to go slower than the quick beauty of the notes of a bowl of oranges.

and that.s how it is. i would sit there in that beautiful dark room and just hold his hand. maybe, maybe kiss him on the forehead, or hold his head in my lap or run my fingers in his hair or a million other quiet, little things. and just. be still with him.

that.s sort of the rhythm of my river, and i.m used to keeping myself contained. so when he calls and does little things like coming up to me or calling me, it.s just sort of nice.

you.re my felix culpa, and i laughed. and at some perfect moment (it will come. they.ve come before. that.s faith.) i.ll tell you. and laugh. still. still.

just... still.

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