frost over

Early this morning.

entitled: ... (Actually, I'm not quite sure yet. Medical school is influencing, so perhaps "Anatomical Positions.")

And yes, the reprise of rhyme. It's been a while.

----------

I’m scratching my head;
I’ve a bone to pick
Though it’s too late now,
Burned both ends of the wick.

Your smiles too much,
Your words too few
To save me now,
But you haven’t a clue.

So I’ll say it again--
Oh, it’s perfectly fine
To leave us in a stitch in time,
Saving yourself for number nine.
Well, how was I to know
Where you’d drawn the line?

My ears are burning;
My stomach’s in knots.
But we’re talking about you
And your unspoken thoughts.

I’d keep you on your toes,
But you’ve got cold feet.
And I never heard
Your heart skip a beat.

So I’ll say it again--
Oh, it’s perfectly fine
To leave us in a stitch in time,
Saving yourself for number nine.
Well, how was I to know
Where you’d drawn the line?

My knees are knocking at your door,
But you’re not answering anymore.

***All the inner prosaic ramble for myself for later days...as per usual, skip and head to italics.

We did it. We had that nondate last night. The dinner where he doesn't offer to pay the bill, but we split it in half...yet afterwards, after driving 30 minutes away to pick me up for dinner, he drives us 30 minutes back to where I can listen to him perform and drives me all the way back to my apartment, despite my offer to simply follow him down in my own car. Over dinner, it was like getting to know a new friend...or rather, reconfirming facts about each other from the past and our viewpoints on life. And yet, there was a lack of novelty somehow because of this history -- this awareness of the physical, mental, emotional, intimate, (and virtually every other kind of) vulnerability that I felt he'd seen of me before. Sometimes it was comforting, sometimes painful. Before heading over to the music hall to listen to him play, we stopped at his house for coffee, and this new nostalgia I'd never felt before raced through my system as I walked around his house again with familiarity. I walked around every room, remembering where we'd sat, embraced, laid beside each other, played, exchanged gifts, made meals while sharing our favorite music, had our first and last kisses, discussed what we had considered the salient points of our lives then. I felt somewhat strange and restricted now...banished from those privileges of walking around so comfortably.

So "listen to him perform," I said. Key point of the night: he finally played marimba for me. He finally showed me the love of his life. I sat there watching him do what he wanted to do for the rest of his life, admiring it, and thinking that I was still glad to have met him. And he's someone who I want to know about and stay in touch with years from now and all the time in between.

Note to self: no one has ever affected me the way he has...never so strongly.

It's been said that "a guy and a girl can be just friends, but at one point or another, one of them will fall for the other, maybe temporarily, maybe at the wrong time, maybe too late, or maybe, just maybe, forever." I think I want the "just friends."  "Just friends" period.  I think.  Is that even possible?  That would definitely be best at this point in my life and hereafter. I want to simply learn and move on, and most of the time, I feel like I already have, but why is it so difficult sometimes?

Attending his senior recital in a month...and I wonder if things will be different then.

Last night, on how we met:
"Harp...I know that's how we met, but when I think of you, I don't think of that. I think of piano." (the instrument I've played longer)  We met at a harp studio party thrown by my professor at her house; he was bartending for the evening.

And on yesterday's little private recital:
"The last time I played in here was on my birthday...I was practicing late at night, and I remember listening to your voice message when you sang 'Happy Birthday' to me."
"Really?"
"...Do you remember that?"
"Of course...but I didn't know you were here..."

-------------------------

10/07/2006, 1:18 a.m.

I sat quietly and bottled the anticipation
As I watched this hidden passion I'd never seen before
(Even when I knew you then and there)
That I assumed you were saving for someone, someday,
Flood over your entire being -- every muscle and every fiber.
I stared intently, in awe, as it washed over you and out your fingertips
And onto what suddenly became a well-crafted sonorous extension of yourself,
Radiating energy across your face and resonating to the highest rafters
Only to echo back in waves of whispers the secret to a personal happiness.
It was meeting a you I'd never known,
The one I'd read about, heard about, the one everyone else knew.
And in that moment, I felt fortunate to witness it:
The great moments of our lives when everything stops
To allow us what we love,
Untainted by life's urge to stay on schedule.
So I closed my eyes, as if to hold this vicarious feeling inside
To save for a rainy day or for every day,
After the music fades away.