novembre ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- not to prove; just to be this. "forget what came before. all you have is your future." that. "we may be through with the past, but the past sure isn't through with us." a small ceremony i wore heels and a skirt. nylons. felt like my body was a hand held tight inside a fitted glove. the minister talked about himself a lot and accidentally called the groom tina. i did like what he said about love. you just have to be. you just have to coexist, and why is that so hard for people to take? why get married when you forget, forsake what you vowed to uphold? marry and be like archeologists. as you grow older you will only become more interesting to each other. j looked so beautiful, so immaculate. like a tiny white statue standing next to him, her brown curls tucked under a veil our friend made. there were no poppies, there was no church. it was outside a theatre and the wind made the transclucent hairs on our arms stand up. i kept my eyes trained on the archway above them, the roses and the roses, and i found out what it is like to watch one of your friends be married. the reception was a three block walk away and we made it in scattered little groups, gussied up and traipsing down state street seven pm on a sunday night. we sat at one round table nestled into a corner of the restaurant, the longer tables reserved for family and friends of the groom. we ignored that feeling of people ignoring us, threw the appetizers at each other and demolished the wine. he stayed near me because he felt out of place in his thrift store suit. he said we made more sense together, safety in numbers. you look like a hip car dealer. he kept opening and closing his hands, swallowing and watching their relatives and friends with sideways glances. i wrapped my arm around his. his boyfriend was in the wedding; his boyfriend gave a speech before the dancing, thanking j for making him her maid of honor. everybody laughed politely. he blinked and said something touching, the room seemed to exhale. an hour or two after dinner they danced, quietly, right next to where the minister was seated. two suits pressed together. all eyes. and then all eyes smiled as a gaggle of the groom's rowdy cousins in wrinkled dresses wound around them like a ring, skipping in a circle, holding hands. such blatant little girls. and i'll always prefer children to adults, they always seem to immediately understand the obvious. 1:57 am - 08.16.04 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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