Paris, je t’aime March 31, 2008

Late one night, I was lying in your arms

My fingers, on your skin, silently traced “I love you”

Late that night, lying in your arms

I packed my bags

I packed and packed and packed for days

And one night, by the bridge, I picked them up

I picked them up, without a sound

I picked them up, without a word

And disappeared into the night

.

I ran and ran for days on end

Until I reached your door

I knocked and knocked and knocked some more

Until you opened up your door

And there I stood, a refugee

A woman who had vanished in the dark

I dropped my bags, down by my side

I stepped into the light

I kissed your cold, dead cheek

I kissed your icy lips

Took back the keys to my life

Followed my bliss

.

Paris, je t’aime

some prose: The Day I Met Johnny Sawyer March 27, 2008

the most insignificant things can make one feel good…

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The Day I Met Johnny Sawyer

 

The snowfall was unexpected. I had just returned from the shortest of Easter breaks, only to find myself in a whirlwind of snow, on a late Tuesday afternoon. It rarely snows in Zurich and I am grateful for that. Snow is uncomfortable. It is cold, it stings, it ruins your hair and it makes many things slippery. In a city like Zurich, snow is even worse, because it usually doesn’t fall and cover everything with a magical white blanket, like in the fairytales. Instead, it turns into watery slop, which then transforms into ice. And in a city like this, which is essentially made out of hills, ice on the ground is never an easy thing to negotiate.

I was sitting in the tram, on my way home after classes, when he stepped in, two stops after me. He was tall and very handsome, with broad but not thick or plump lips and he was wearing a knee-length, black coat with the most perfect lapels ever made. I had never even thought about lapel quality until I saw him in that coat. He was coming straight towards me with long strides and suddenly, he flashed an incredible smile. His smile was so warm, so inviting, so winning, that at first, I did not even think it was meant for me. Yet it was. He saw me understanding this and smiled again, slightly amused. I returned the smile, my mind racing, trying to figure out if I knew him from university and simply had failed to recognise him. He sat down across from me and pulled out a pen, starting a Sudoku in the evening newspaper. I glanced sideways, looking him up and down in an effort to place him. I still would not believe he could have smiled at me without knowing who I was and all I could think of was how embarrassing it was that I did not know who he was. Finally, I gave up. I really had not seen or met him before. I checked my outfit to see if anything was wrong with it and he had not smiled but quietly laughed at me, but everything was in place. My friend Monique had made a comment earlier in the day about how my hair was perfect today and how well the copper colour of it was complimented by my make-up, grass green pullover and maroon poncho. Maybe I did look good enough today for strange men to smile at me kindly. Yes, it was that. I decided I looked fabulous, pouted my lips a little and took another glance at him. He was deep into his Sudoku. I inspected the rest of his outfit and saw he was wearing beige trousers with side-pockets and flawlessly polished brown shoes. His hair was cut neatly, his skin was glowing and he had big hands. Somehow, I thought that maybe he was gay. Since he was not looking up from his newspaper and was dressed a little too well for a straight man, the smile had had to have been either a fluke, a pity smile, or he was gay and the smile had been a compliment for my outfit. Gays always like me. Even silent and in a snow-soaked poncho, my gays-loving-me vibe is never switched off. So I convinced myself he was indeed gay and focused on his handsomeness, enjoying it while it lasted.

Coming up to Schaffhauser Platz, he tucked his pen in his coat’s inner pocket and tossed the newspaper aside. He stood up and walked towards the doors. I did the same, as I had to switch trams there. Upon seeing me advancing towards him, he grinned again, triumphantly, like he had been vindicated. Hope flickered inside me, briefly, that he might not be gay after all. I stood beside him, waiting for the tram to stop. My goodness, he was tall. Tall, handsome, great smile, I was happy to just stand next to this scrumptious man for a few more seconds when he turned his head and said “are we neighbours?” My heart skipped a beat and I felt my cheeks burning. Was that how we knew each other? But it couldn’t be, I would have noticed him. “I don’t think…” I stammered but he interrupted me, quickly saying “no, I meant do you live near here?” I gasped and said yes. “Wonderful, it’s a great place to be”, he beamed at me. “I guess…” I answered, witty and inspired. Words never fail me but right now, I was completely blanking out, I wanted to slap myself. “I’ve lived here, at Schaffhauser Platz, for a year now and I love it!” he added enthusiastically. “Really? Me too, I’ve been here about a year”. Not a great sentence, but at least it was complete. He nodded and gave me a look best described as enthralled, knowing and hopeful. His eyes were saying “good, that means we’ll see each other again around here”. Such self-confidence and happiness, I loved it. The tram came to a halt and we both stepped out into the cold air. One more glance, one more smile and he was gone. I turned around after a few seconds, but he was heading away, already disappearing behind the building of the coffee shop across the street. I wondered if he had turned back before me, if I had waited too long. I wanted it to be like it is in the movies, where both the man and the woman turn back at the same time, to gaze into each other’s eyes once more before walking away. Then again, maybe it was like it is in the movies. Maybe he had looked back, seen that I wasn’t looking and had started walking and I turned back at him just a split second too late.

The snowfall was beautiful. During our time in the tram, the wind had died down a little and now the snow was slowly falling from the sky in big, puffy flakes that landed on my nose and tickled my eyelashes. I tilted my head back and caught one with the tip of my tongue. All around me, it was beginning to cover benches, fountains and bushes with a thick, white blanket. I smiled happily and let the snow ruin my perfect hair. Thank you, Johnny Sawyer. I also hope we’ll see each other again around here.

To Agony March 16, 2008

an older poem, retrieved from the archives for someone who recently lost a dear friend
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So selfish, about my own lack

I never could have imagined this

And again, in the face of death is selfishness

One question in a thousand variations:

Don’t do this to me, what will I be without you?

You’re the only one I love more than my own life

Why you?

.

It seems perfection never stays on this earth for long

The angels and spirits call you back

Already, I feel you fading… away

Already, you seem so distant

.

Such immense sadness

A world caving in

The ground giving way beneath me

.

It’s all too overwhelming

Feels like losing a child

Scared to death of this room and bed

Yesterday, it looked so small

Now that emptiness has entered, it’s grown

Ever so huge

.

And still it can’t contain my pain

.

Could never contain it, in a million years

Promise me

You’ll watch over me

Asking For What We Can’t Give March 13, 2008

for Michael 

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There was a time

When I believed

There was a time

When I was falling in love

There even was a time, once

Where I thought, you liked me too

But what I didn’t know was

It could never be us two

.

I was asking for what you couldn’t give

I was hoping against hope

I was fighting a losing battle

I was fighting for your soul

But the sword I wielded

Found nothing more

Than shadows on a wall

.

There was a time

When you were you

There was a time

When the world seemed good

There even was a time, once

I just chose to tell the truth

But what I didn’t know was

It would never be enough

.

Now you’re asking for what I can’t give

You’re hoping against hope

That I might still see you

And feel nothing

But that’s not how my story goes

And the sword you wield

Will find nothing more

Than a stone of empty woes

.

You’re asking for what I won’t give

You’re hoping against hope

That I will agree

To be less than a lover

And less than a friend

But I’m telling you honestly

I’m telling you honestly

That’s asking for more than I will give

You’re asking for more than I can give

Even Angels Fall March 8, 2008

another brandnew poem, fresh from the oven

.

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I fly so high

I crawl so low

I want to have it all

But god knows, even angels fall

.

I am the wind beneath your wings

I am the soil you walk upon

For you, I will stand proud and tall

But god knows, even angels fall

.

I will be the air you all breathe

I will be the ground of your battles

None of you will resist my call

But god knows, even angels fall

.

And when the two warriors meet

Blood-red horses roaming decaying streets

God will know, even angels fall

God will know, even angels fall

a song: Let It Go March 4, 2008

So many years that have passed

So much sorrow overcome

But the girl looking back in the mirror

Knows the war has not been won

It took 27 minutes, for the truth to break on through

It took 27 minutes, for the truth to break on through

–  chorus –

If you can trace it back

Let it go

It’s all just camouflage

So let it go

It’s that simple – and that complex

So drop the mask

And let it go

–

I’ve become Wonder Woman

And a coma patient too

But the creature standing here before you

Just shimmers through her bondage

It took 27 minutes, for light to defeat darkness

It took 27 minutes, for light to defeat darkness

–chorus–

If you can trace it back

Let it go

It’s all just camouflage

So let it go

It’s that simple – and that complex

So drop the mask

And let it go

Let it go

Let it go

Let it go

dedicated to my friend Roxey, who always finds the words the heart truly hears