flâneries

something new

Farah — Mon, 02 Mar 2009 21:43:36 +0000

woke up this morning to snow
woke up to her
next to me, soft
warm
toes
next to me sleepy, sweet
kisses in the morning with snow.

cold coffee cold floor warm goodbyes
pull shut the door
cold white alone
i miss her bed,
her warm, soft
i wonder if she misses me too.

kisses and bikes
hard metal, soft mouth
holding hands in the street
i’m not sure where i am
she knows
and i follow.

on a big rock in central park.

Farah — Thu, 09 Oct 2008 02:03:14 +0000

dreams and nightmares coalesce into one ongoing
all-encompassing vision
i dont know whats real except for the warmth of your body next to mine.
your skin is smooth and shines in the light from the window,
your lips soft and pink and
when i kiss them you roll over and hug me
like i pressed your love button and you happily responded.
i love you like this, sleeping the afternoon away in my bluegreen rumpled room
youre a little boy in arms and legs, mumbling to yourself
and to me
in mixed up phrases of spanish and english.
im alive in bunches of sheets,
in sleepy kisses and body heat,
high up in my quiet place above the city.

im sitting on a big rock in central park, already missing this place even though im not yet gone.

***originally posted April 7, 2008 on kali::black

toujours, j’attend.

Farah — Thu, 09 Oct 2008 02:02:24 +0000

waiting. always waiting.

waiting on the world to change.
waiting to change the world.
waiting on the world to want to change.
waiting to get older
to feel better
to be smarter
waiting for you
to leave
to get here
to be happy
to understand.
waiting for my life to start
for my phone to ring
for my head to stop hurting and my eyes to see clearly
less blurry
less false.
waiting for a reason
for a cause
for an excuse.
waiting to know
to be
to become.
waiting for my alarm to ring
for the third time.
waiting for the right time
for next time
for last time.
waiting for friends
for fun
for ice cream and food
for hugs and kisses
and fresh-baked cookies.
waiting for my plane to arrive
to board
to take off and land again.
waiting to move
to be moved
to feel like moving.
waiting to be someplace else.
waiting to stop waiting -
to do. to act.
to exist in the present tense and not just in the near future.

someday i’m gonna…

but until then,
i’m always waiting.

***originally posted Sunday, March 23, 2008 on kali::black

dirigibles

Farah — Thu, 09 Oct 2008 02:01:09 +0000

yesterday i breathed my soul in through the city, breathed it out again and back in through my mouth as i looked and heard and smelled and felt. my walks remind me of what it means to be alive. to want to be. to be here.

i watched the purple torches of my campus, my wide scary playground, dip and flutter in the breeze. i walk the streets of lower manhattan. my town. i think my soul is the wind. i think my home has moved, or at least…duplicated, or shifted, so it means something else. i think maybe i have two homes, and i wonder what that means, and if that makes me happy or sad.

sometimes i put my headphones on but then forget to turn on the music, because i get lost in the beautiful cacophany of my city.

my city. finally.

i think it’s actually more of a reclaiming, really. a homecoming. i walked my first steps, took my first breath, screamed my first little indignant scream as a tiny baby in queens. it was here that i first knew life, so perhaps its no wonder that it is here i breathe life in and out and in and out again.

its precarious, holding your life-essence on the tip of your tongue. sometimes i fear the pidgeons will snatch it out from between my lips and i’ll fall down into misery in the tracks and puddles of the underground, again. sometimes im not even sure if i really climbed out. maybe i’m just dreaming of sunshine and dry sidewalks. some days i cant get the cold and dank and dark out of my chest. it lurks there, hard like a little ball of desperation that creeps into my every breath and threatens to extinguish all that i’ve built up against the cold.

its raining now. in new york its always raining, it seems. and even if its not raining, the sidewalks are surely wet. new york is a city of puddles. i’ve come to relish dry sidewalks to an absurd extent. i think it actually lifts my mood if i step outside and the sidewalks are dry.

no walks today; i’m too lazy and comfortable to pull on my rainboots and coat, and struggle with an umbrella. if i breathe with my mouth open today, i’ll drown. my sweatshirt is too small. i hate when things shrink in the wash. i hate when things get bigger over time. bigger than you want or could ever hope to handle. i hate when i dont know where my thoughts are going.

probably best to end them before they drift off in too many directions to follow.

besides, i have people and things to look forward to. for tonight, at least.

***originally written February 26, 2008. posted on kali::black

public perverts on checkered stone

Farah — Thu, 09 Oct 2008 01:56:38 +0000

i’ve been here one week.

one glorious, heartwrenching, puke-your-guts-out-you’re-

so-nervous, sing-your-soul-away-it’s-so-beautiful, cry-till-you-can’t-breathe week.new york city.

i am a child, a newborn baby child, alone and screaming at a world that won’t understand her, won’t accept her, won’t embrace her, won’t touch her for fear of finding something there worth loving. can’t. can’t. won’t. doesn’t make a difference. indifference is the word, cold and alone is the feeling, especially in my feet as i sit on a bed in an empty room. these things, this place, they’re not mine, not yet. the room is bland, unassuming, covered and cluttered with my old possessions but not yet mine, still…indifferent. like the sun shining, streaming through the window (not mine), illuminating the tops of the trees and the rooftops of this city, this village, this park that’s not mine, the a/c blasting cold air and a hum that’s not mine to control, not mine to turn off when i’ve had enough.

i think i have.

no, i haven’t. the people here, the kids here, this school and this hallway thats grudgingly becoming familiar to my eyes, warming to my touch as i turn the reluctant lock with the sticky key and flip the stubborn switch, they don’t want me yet but they’ll have me. i’ll push through. i’ll take them, all of them, and make them mine, pour out my emotions on these white walls like so much paint, until this room shines neon-bright with my presence. i’ll shoulder this door till it opens, i’ll push out these windows that keep out the noise, unplug this damn machine that keeps my feet cold and open my arms to this world, this new world; i’ll tread on the gum and cement of these sparkling vomit-covered streets and make them mine. street names and twisty lanes, dark corners and rickety stairs, blaring horns, roaring trains, angry men and pushy women, i’ll make you mine, i’ll take this city and make it love me…

because i am already irrevocably entangled in love with it. i am heartbroken, i am alone, i feel isolated beyond endurance and these fucking trains seem to break down just for me, just when i need nothing more than to get up to the only arms in this place that will have me, but i love it all the same. from the jazz filtering through the park to my lonely seat, to the yellow taxi horns at night, to the stink of the sweat of 8 million people crowded into one subway car, i am in love. give me your poor, your tired, your huddled masses. give me your filth and your stench and your dusty coke glasses. i’ll take it all, i’ll make this goddamn city mine if it takes all i have in return.

and it will. but i’m here. and i’m ready. and i’ll push my way in.

*** originally written September 4, 2007. posted on kali::black