Somewhere Beyond

A Poem by Mahan

I sat on a plastic chair and you sat across from me.

I was….

I waited.

For my turn and you waited also, for yours.

That day I wore something,

but I wore nothing beneath the layers of my skin. And I looked down and saw a hole,

in my stomach.

I sat and stared and you stared back at me,

through me.

Your gaze pierced past my skin and the Nothing that I wore underneath.

Your gaze, eager to travel through my bones and illuminate something beyond,

(me).

You always saw the Something Beyond. You tried to show it to me but I never saw.

(I am sorry).

As I waited purpose faded from my mind and gave way to memories, to thoughts of the past.

(Or the present?)

Thoughts of time and waiting...

...often weighed down the body yet elevated the soul

to paroxysms of pleasure,

to the heights of self-wrought misery.

And you stayed seated, solitary and still, and I wondered if you knew why you had begun waiting in the first place.

A serpentine stream of thoughts came pouring out,

from my soul,

through two circular windows.

Memories of a time gone by,

long ago,

squirmed on the floor with nowhere else

to go.

Nowhere else to be.

And in my mind there remained nothing. I gave you all there was to see.

And I then turned to you and asked,

"Now will you take me to the Somewhere Beyond?

For when I look over your bending figure I cannot see the Somewhere Beyond.

somewhere beyond this realm of reality one can let their

fears,

doubts.....

roam free

and then they will become walking pillars of flesh, with their heads rotating ceaselessly around a pivot,

purposeless,

and in the Somewhere Beyond they feel no shame if they cruise through a vacuum with no destination in mind.

Aimless."

But I looked down and saw a hole….

In the floor.

In my stomach.

The slithering thoughts made their way toward the hole.

A rimless hole the same color as the marble floor.

Just a dent in the passing of time. My thoughts were gone and I was headless, thoughtless

but with the same yearnings.....

as before.

Then I heard the news and looked up and saw two, maybe three, TV screens. Three (possibly four), square shaped eyes that seemed to hold within them a little bit of everything, a remedy for the moment, a cure for the laughing bobbleheads who sat at the bar, with their fifth or sixth pint of beer in front of them. Then I saw five (perhaps six?) eyes looking at me

from the walls each showing a reflection different from the other and I saw a child crying on the news and I saw sport analysts arguing the merits of our favorite hockey team and I saw a man with different skin color than mine speaking,

protesting,

about what I knew not and could not think of a reason,

for my thoughts had crawled into a hole.

I looked down and saw you, again, tending the Happy and the Lost,

behind the counter,

and in your strides there was no hint of hesitation,

like a slender blade you cut through the gaze of the crowd,

piercing those who lusted after your body.

The clicking of your heels drowned all other noise in the bar and invited us to look up, at least once,

to feel less alone.

Us,

Or,

Them?

I looked at them and saw them laughing. I looked at you and you looked away. You dropped a fork and bent down to pick it up, and I stared at your a*s and I thought of pulling down your skirt and panties in front of all the strange faces,

kissing your skin,

working my up,

s l o w l y,

up your legs, up your thighs,

feeling that sweet wet spot between your thighs where all pleasures hide,

secret,

uncharted (?),

ready to be discovered and re-discovered by my touch.

But I turned away and drank.

Finished it,

my cheeks flushed,

in one gulp,

my sixth beer.

And I felt my eyes burning,

wet,

with tears.....

unintended.

And through the wet curtain I saw your wings, I saw your naked body, and the wings that grew

after every fresh kiss,

after every sea you crossed,

after every mountain you climbed, after every foreign city you visited, and as the items on your bucket list were checked out one by one your wings grew and gave you the ability to fly,

to the sun,

to a tree where you can now build your nest, and gaze upon the path you have tread

to the hilltop,

to the tree.

And I sobbed with silent dedication,

for I wanted to be the root of the tree upon which you build your nest,

for I longed to liquefy and flow in your veins and be the very blood that brings a glow to your cheeks after a shot of vodka,

for I wanted to be inside you, pin you down on the ground and f**k you with dedication, as if I know nothing else,

for I longed to see myself in you and through you and see the world and how you see it,

only,

but you were a bird and you would eventually fly away.

And I cried for no reason and looked down.