Closing The Window

There was a wedding I attended and as weddings go it was nice. Old mansion by the sea for the reception, everyone in their best frippery and finery. What strange creatures I thought as I tripped on another person and fell forwards into a woman. Apologizing profusely and beet red as my face nearly cleaved her breasts, I moved to a safer distance. She followed and a lively conversation arose but I still felt mortified. Funny on those things. Mortification, embarrassment, whilst attraction and fumbling. Another passing of ships, sounding horns in the fog of living. Since the years have passed, occasionally the image of this woman returns to my stream, though I ne’er can recall the face but in those fleeting moments.

We build up curtains of gauze, sometimes layered in an attempt to conceal, other times thin and not so opaque. We attach meaning where none probably is. However it is, we can never determine the truth or it’s reality, for such things are only ideas, nothing more. I had recently met someone who is just filed away in the experience vault and yet at the oddest times, that person or visage bursts into this stream I have. No explanation. What is to be done in such situations?

You can close the window to keep out the hot or cold. Draw the shades down. But there IS something still there. STILL!! So for the woman who’s breasts I nearly cleaved, it is still there, I just don’t know what to say about it except it is.

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