thoughts (fragments)

it rains and everything is blue. i wake up early to take note of the fact, open my blinds partially, look out the window, and return to bed. now my room is blue too. if you listen hard enough you might hear something. i never do, but you might. (and possibility is nine-tenths of the game).


*___*___*

i fumble a bit to close the back of my car holding an umbrella in one hand, a yellow notepad in the other, my gym bag swaying around like a pendulum. when i turn she's walking behind me. orange light rain-proof jacket with most of her head hidden away so she looks like a species of penguin. black tights. "you don't like the rain as much as i do."
"how do you know?"
"because i like it alot" (what i really want to say is: 'you look adorable with your head hidden away like a penguin')
"i like it alot too."
"why are you walking away, come share my umbrella and we can determine who really likes the rain better." (she smiles. it's genuine)
"i need to walk this way."
"i just stepped in a big puddle and my shoes are all wet."
"do you blame me?"
"are you the rainman?"
"no. but i distracted you." (by now we've been walking apart and we're almost shouting to one another)
"in another life you would have shared my umbrella and it would have ended happily ever after."
(she's under the cover of a building, i'm still standing in my puddle. umbrella moving erratically because of the wind, gym bag being unimpressed with my shoulder).
(she smiles, somewhat sadly, and we walk away).

(possibility is nine-tenths of everything)


*___*___*

maybe more, maybe less. life, this thing that happens to/for/despite/in spite of/because of/ us. i wonder if i ever really interact with it. is it just a thing, a reel that flows around me, a river i am immersed in. and the shadows of moments, the lips of women, orange sweaters, the 345 bus, the year 2007, these things just pass around me. and i, stupidly with my arms opened wide, try to hold on to it (and fail always fail).