When I look at her she will smile. I mean when I stare at her, longingly, quizzically, tenderly, she will smile because of the attention. She will challenge me, but concede when wrong, and graciously accept when I concede. She will like and play basketball. She will wonder where I was, not out of jealousy, but rather she will want to know, first if I was safe and then if I was enjoying myself. She won’t care what purse she has or if we leave for a quick outing, will just put on shoes and leave with me. She will let me kiss her whenever I wanted. She won’t turn away because she knows how much pain that causes. She won’t call me names when she’s angry. She will be understanding and loyal. She will know more poets than I do. She will have an unusual name but not unusual parents. She won’t call her father ”daddy.” She hates dick and fart jokes. She will want me to meet her friends and be liked by them. She will like my friends. She will trust me. She won’t seek attention, from me or anyone. She will never try to undermine my family, or my relationship with them. She will be as smart as or smarter than me. She will understand movies, and understand the use of blood in them and not wince when it appears on screen. She will let me cook for her. She will understand my physical ailments, and limitations, but still expect me to be as strong as superman. She won’t question anything in my writing, unless it’s about the form. Just touching her skin will make me aroused. She will have been places in the world, or she will have never been anywhere and allow me to be a tour guide. She will understand humans have emotions and different things make us sad. She won’t comment on my smoking. She will able to drive, swim, drink, use chop sticks, run fast, and use public transportation. She won’t drink too much unless it’s a celebration. She will make sure that I don’t get hung-over, and when I do, laugh at me at first then help me out. She will know that a simple hug can turn into lovemaking. She will have friends in other countries, whom we visit every few years. She will not like hiking, camping, canoeing, or kayaking. She will take showers with me when we are both running late, or if she wants to be close me while being naked and having hot running water embrace us. She will give me a back rub and praise me when I give her one. She will understand computers and won’t understand comic books but find it endearing that I do. She will laugh at me when I’m overreacting. She will know the difference between Star Trek and Star Wars. She will be happy. She will have an open mind. She will teach me about art. She won’t mind if it’s a little dirty. She will never hold anything over my head. She won’t keep tabs. She will understand money, but never use it as leverage. She will understand that in a relationship there are some silences and sometimes those are more important than what could have been said at that moment. She will exist.

The atoms

I am comprised of stir and my hands move. My eyes shift, squint in the light. I am waiting for something. I usually forget that I am waiting. Oddly enough it is not only when I am sleeping. I have been waiting for days, years. The unfortunate thing is, I don't know what I'm waiting for. I get excited, I get anxious, but for what I don't know, have no clue. I imagine I might find it when I take an unusual path or make a decision counter to what I would have normally done. It's just around the corner, just over the hill. I am afraid of it. Not knowing scares me. Finding out could scar me. I am not a nervous person, the thoughts that normally tax our brains pass over me, mercury racing downhill. Money comes and goes, my job is stressful but secure. I am waiting, wondering for nothing. When I feel like I can see the future, my heart strengthens and my eyes sharpen, I look deeper at the man on the corner, approaching me. I stare at the woman across from me on the bus. My future lies just three feet ahead of me. Then the man walks past without the exciting job offer, or peril. The woman gets off the bus and doesn't look back. I shrug and continue walking. I exhale and climb back into my book. It isn't greatness, fame or riches. It's purpose that I'm waiting for. I'm doing my part of being in the lost generation.

I make them smile, I make them laugh. They cry. I indulge myself with novels. The protagonists have purpose. They have conflict. Is that it? I have no conflict, war battle, love. I have over six feet of myself. I have my thoughts, my dreams, some I share, most I leave behind. I think, I create, I forgive others quicker than myself. Is it time that I accept that I have to make the adventure I am looking forward to. I have had a few. I have been places, seen things, like when I was in Japan and saw a guy riding backwards on a motorcycle waving a samurai sword at the police chasing them. Is the difference that I only saw it and didn't do it? However I am pretty sure that is not what I am waiting for. I just don't think I can accept my life as normal. I am ready for my samurai sword.

Dustin