Fugue #122

Anyway, Zed writes, what’s the theme here?

Sometimes it’s memory.
Sometimes it’s family.
Sometimes it’s generations.
Sometimes it’s art.

Sometimes - always, in the very act of writing - it’s love.

L-0-V-E.

Giving yourself to someone. This is me. And this is my voice, and this is how I see the world and how I would describe it to you. If you just listen to hear.

Do you listen? Do you hear?

If you say hi to somebody you like, and they don’t say anything back, should you assume they just didn’t hear you? Should you figure that maybe another greeting - hey, or what’s up - would work, would prompt a response? Or that speaking louder, or jumping up and down waving your arms (look at ME, I’m here, I’ve been here, I’ll be here) might? Maybe? Try it?

Or should you be open your eyes? And shut up and walk away, and keep yourself to youself, keep it like a secret. (You were never very good at that, but you could learn, right? It would sure beat this.)

It’s quiet here today, he almost laughs. But then again, it is most days.