The woman speaks:
Dear Eva:
I’m sitting in what must be the most boring hotel bar ever, trying not to hear the most boring music ever, faced with the most boring choice of draft beers ever. Miller or Bud Light. I’m trying not to overhear the two idiot dudes bragging about the fifty seven beers and thirty six shots with a chaser of rat poison they drank last night. The only reason I’m writing instead of calling you is that you asked me not to call too late and I don’t want to, except I can feel myself falling apart. This morning I was still up when the sun rose. I’d heard the mermaids singing, that same old song, come in with us come in with us come in with us come on come on come on, it always sounds so good, but I didn’t listen to them this time. I know that the waters of Paradise can drown you as easily as the fires of Gehenna can burn you. I waited and watched the last of the old moon setting, just a tiny crescent, the stars doing a perfectly executed fade-out, me in last night’s clothes, the day already a mess before it had begun. And I wondered, can you call light crepuscular in the morning, or only in the evening? I’m sorry you’re not here. I’m really trying not to bother you. I miss you. I love you. See you soon I hope.
Dear Eva:
I’m sitting in what must be the most boring hotel bar ever, trying not to hear the most boring music ever, faced with the most boring choice of draft beers ever. Miller or Bud Light. I’m trying not to overhear the two idiot dudes bragging about the fifty seven beers and thirty six shots with a chaser of rat poison they drank last night. The only reason I’m writing instead of calling you is that you asked me not to call too late and I don’t want to, except I can feel myself falling apart. This morning I was still up when the sun rose. I’d heard the mermaids singing, that same old song, come in with us come in with us come in with us come on come on come on, it always sounds so good, but I didn’t listen to them this time. I know that the waters of Paradise can drown you as easily as the fires of Gehenna can burn you. I waited and watched the last of the old moon setting, just a tiny crescent, the stars doing a perfectly executed fade-out, me in last night’s clothes, the day already a mess before it had begun. And I wondered, can you call light crepuscular in the morning, or only in the evening? I’m sorry you’re not here. I’m really trying not to bother you. I miss you. I love you. See you soon I hope.
Song: I Don't Feel Like Dancing (After Simko)
I have my directions
Written in some uncertain kind of code
I know the groves and orchards
But not the people I see on the road
I have changed my money
For the paper they use here to pay
At stores where they speak another language
Where street lamp shadows slip on the doorways
Oh I don’t feel like dancing
I wish you could hold my hand tonight
No, I don’t feel like dancing
I wish you could hold me tight
‘Cause I don’t feel like dancing any more
It is snow. It’s snowing.
Footprints running like a line of news
Black marks on the white lined paper:
Only history, just an insult, just a bruise.
The fields here don’t quite fit
Like a map I don’t know how to fold
It’s one story. It still matters
For as long as that story’s told.
Oh I don’t feel like dancing
I wish you could hold my hand tonight
No, I don’t feel like dancing
I wish you could hold me tight
‘Cause I don’t feel like dancing any more
Even with my eyes closed
I know this place that might have been my home
The woods where trees are still scarred
With my name carved in like a poem.
I barely fill my coat up
The sleeves are empty as the twilight sky
Heading to the empty house where
I last saw my father cry
Oh I don’t feel like dancing
I wish you could hold my hand tonight
No, I don’t feel like dancing
I wish you could hold me tight
‘Cause I don’t feel like dancing any more
[adapted from The Arrival, by Daniel Simko]
