Like and Love

Love and Like


I love a one legged man
when he leans into me and we dance
I can push back and we move
in such a knowing manner
I don't have to remind him
that he needs me because he doesn't
when he wants to hop, he hops
when he wants to stand and just watch
he stands in the most exquisite form
when he is deep inside of me, my legs are his

He never asked me this man
what I was missing, you can't see my missing part
he just listened carefully pressing the funnel to his ear
and the other end to my heart
one night when we were alone
he whispered "trust me about this" and
he pressed his chest tight
against mine and let me use his rib(s)
when my heart broke and they fixed it
they forgot to put a few of the ribs back
and now when its cold or when I am afraid
I can feel my heart a little exposed
and that's when he appears pushing hard against me
my scutum, the hero stuff of school girl folklore

Don't ask me what a one legged man stores
in that plastic leg
it's our secret one of our whispers
Ok, sometimes I can find the corkscrew in there
and when he's close I still get the nervous jitters
and my lips feel numb like I've had too much red wine
and then the calm and then the warmth
in my belly
like swimming in a warm pool weightless
and when you are under the water's surface
we talk in bubbles because when you talk in bubbles
fragments, pieces the only one who can understand
is someone who loves you,
even with a missing heart
a missing leg
a missing tongue

I'll see him later
my one legged man
and tell him of wanting girls
with sweet adoring smiles
and he'll say "don't do this to me"
and I'll know that means
"Whisper to me some more, Carrie"
and if he calls me Darling, there's nothing I won't say
And even now I am composing a song of such seduction
I'll say "I can't reach this place, can you help?"
and he will smile and moan a little
and fill me up with such delight
I am glad not all men know his secrets
and I am glad to hold his rib ever so close to me
I will hold it softly and in such a knowing thought

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Love is easy and I have often said it's a decision. Love that dizzy dancing way you feel that Joni sings of and sings of. Like, another thing. Like is about finding a commonality of spirit. I love my family dearly, liking them for more than a few days in a row is truly work. Best Friend and I have often driven home from family and looked at each other in the car and said, "we're all filled up of family for awhile right?" Yup, all done. When I miss them, when we miss them, we'll be back. They more than likely feel the same.

When like and love overlap, when the edges touch it's pure magic. When you like someone enough to be in the room with them and feel you don't have to entertain them but can still look over at them in wonder and love and know they are close. I like my alone time and recently have had that love of it taken from me a little. I like to wander down into the studio and pull up some beads and get busy for hours, days, lost in it, hearing the phone ring and wish for it to be Best Friend or Stan who makes me laugh and laugh and laugh. These days though there's a little ache when I've been lost in work for days I stop and think of like. I like when I pick up the phone and it's the goofy girl finding me to tell me about cafe world or asking me to pick her virtual farm, or listening to her tell me about her job, far more important in the world than mine. She's hitting the mark and I am so proud of her.

But sometimes I want to see that miracle of connection buzz and be the like I've been missing. I want to hear him call me baby. I want to know he's looking for me. Oh gods throw me a rope. Tell me that boys let you down, tell me not to think about this, to push the thoughts aside and let it go. Run for cover. I allow myself a few moments to think about it, lingering there, dancing in some quiet room yes I will allow myself to go there for awhile putting the jimmy scissors one and two down and finally clearing my head to make some tea. I love to squeeze the honey bear's belly watching that amber liquid of love sit at the bottom of my cup.

It's no state secret that I am a romantic. If you could write down all the things you'd want someone to whisper to you and then someone does what do you say as a measure of thanks? Or do you say damn you, I was happier waiting, wondering. It drove Dickens to madness writing in a female voice and then knowing and I mean knowing no woman would say those things to him. He was wrong, if you put it out there enough someone will say those things and then you are far more fucked than you could imagine. You'll need them. You'll need those whispers in the middle of the day when you need inspiration. When you've tasted Belgium chocolate how do you go back to Milky Way bars? I have a milky way bar hidden somewhere and when I find it today this will be a good good thing.

"A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other. " Dickens wrote that with a heavy heart and he was full of like and love, no doubt. You see what you are not, what you can't be in another and want to touch it and play with it and know it. You want to learn from them, take pieces of them and make them your own and love them. It's just the magic of the situation. And in that I will offer the allure of time spent lingering and poetry and art and the love of those things and how I can get lost in them. I offer the soft spot to land and yet powerful enough to figure out the guy stuff with a smidge of advice here and there. I hired a crew to shovel this winter and they called when it showed an inch or two hurrying over to offer to shovel. Then when we got two feet of snow, not a word. Their phone is unable to be reached. God is whispering here, "get off your ass and go pick up a shovel Carrie." I did. There is power in doing what a man usually does and doing it well, running a business, using a shovel, getting the car serviced and knowing you can do it, you don't need to tolerate the bullshit that time with some sweet boy would be just pure joy and nothing ordinary, nothing ordinary at all.

God had to make us need one another or we'd all be a recluse making jewelry, sneaking out to find eggplant and peach juice, wandering around an art gallery but for the most part enjoying time alone, working. And then you run into someone who makes the alone uncomfortable, and you need and need and need. You'd swallow pride, let that jagged bitter pill run down your throat scraping the sides because need is always more important than pride. You choke back a tear when you are standing at the edge looking down and uncertain if there is a net the jagged rocks below and wondering if like those dreams you had as a child you could run fast enough and put our your arms and fly to the other side. And there he'd be waiting, smiling, whispering "I knew you could do it baby." When he calls me baby all is lost.

Sometimes God gives you glimpses of perfect just so you know it's attainable, just to fill your cup with hope. It's not enough just to drink it and enjoy it, you have to nurture it, understand it and hold it in some reverence so God knows you are paying attention. When you take it for granted for even a moment or two, turn your head it maybe be done, over and all you are left with is the knowledge that "we loved each other well." and that better be good enough.

Then Best Friend writes me this morning:

Love ain’t easy, that’s why you have to be sure you Do love someone when you say it, specifically when he says it to you. Love is patient and kind, not boastful or proud or envious; it is not self-seeking and does not rise to anger easily. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. This is how we love each other, best friend, how could I wish any less for you from a man?

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Her love doesn't get more perfect. ever. Her visit here over Christmas renewed my spirit, hours spent shopping, lunching, making cookies, watching penguin movies, laughing and laughing and laughing. We talked of visiting Scotland in the Spring. She likes to plan adventure I like to fall into it. She has a glass case around her heart and I had the urge to break it with a hammer hoping not to damage what I love but give it some room to grow, put it in a larger pot and add more soil. Water it with black currant tea and watch it take over the world while I smile large and wait for the stories she has to tell me. Love full of hope.

There is a scene in biloxi blues, an old old movie. The servicemen are dancing in a dance hall in the south. And the music starts. Who could resist a man in uniform? and suddenly the music starts and he swoops in and is dancing with Daisy Hannigan. There's nobody else dancing, even if there is, there isn't. Every note of the music matches a movement

Somewhere there's music
How faint the tune
Somewhere there's heaven
How high the moon
There is no moon above
When love is far away too
Until it comes true
That you love me as I love you

Somewhere there's music
It's where you are
Somewhere there's heaven
How near, how far
The darkest night would shine
If you would come to me soon
Until you will, how still my heart
How high the moon

Somewhere there's music
How faint the tune
Somewhere there's heaven
How high the moon
There is no moon above
When love is far away too
Until it comes true
That you love me as I love you

Somewhere there's music
It's where you are
Somewhere there's heaven
How near, how far
The darkest night would shine
If you would come to me soon
Until you will, how still my heart
How high the moon

Somewhere there's music
How faint the tune
Somewhere there's heaven
How high the moon
There is no moon above
When love is far away too
Until it comes true
That you love me as I love you

Somewhere there's music
It's where you are
Somewhere there's heaven
How near, how far
The darkest night would shine
If you would come to me soon
Until you will, how still my heart
How high the moon

Somewhere there's music
How faint the tune
Somewhere there's heaven
How high the moon
There is no moon above
When love is far away too
Until it comes true
That you love me as I love you

Somewhere there's music
It's where you are
Somewhere there's heaven
How near, how far
The darkest night would shine
If you would come to me soon
Until you will, how still my heart
How high the moon yeah

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If you haven't seen the movie, I recommend it, it's running on HBO this month. If you don't have a Best Friend, you have to be one first. If you haven't heard someone whisper something you need to hear, then smile more at the market at the sweet man ahead of you. If you haven't taken a nap with a kitten, go adopt one. If you need my grandmother's kolachky recipe you are so out of luck but I'd share my wild mushroom soup recipe. It's wonderful. If you are strong enough to shovel, find someone who isn't and offer to help a little. It's a wonderful feeling. The photo is Ansel Adams in all his glory.

You can find my work, my love at www.poetsummer.etsy.com or me at Summerpoet@msn.com.

Carrie