Dating : Tired Body

Tired Body

I kept entertaining my thoughts as he entered the train, watching his body language and the only seat available: in front of the emergency window.

He rested his eye on it for a brief moment, but he didn’t. He didn’t take it.

He is not gonna seat there, I’m telling you he is not…

Donovan and I started taking the same train about two years ago. Everyday. Time building up in a crescendo – the more I encountered him, the more it felt as if I knew him like a cousin.

Maybe I knew him like a distant cousin – enough to start an awkward conversation, but less than acceptable to develop into a full relationship.

I had been feeling too lonely to notice the subtleties,

the transference,

a vouyer dedication – keeping tabs on him – turning into light obsession.

Some people walk dogs, I observe train passengers. Just need to figure out a way to get payed they keep telling me. ‘They’, are voices: my mom’s, my neighbor, a friend or two. The collective. And mine as well. No meditation, mediation, medication has helped me silence them. Maybe I should put this differently.

I still remember the break up week in which he didn’t bring a single book to the ride nor the cultural section of the NY Times. Their last kiss so empty, hurting,

suspending the recording that announces the next stop. That same week I was going through a separation of sorts with my roommate. I had no books either, only an available mind.

Gradually, with every ticket bought, every card renewed, I started to loose my body. To the trains, to Donovan.

The train station became a temple in a series of events I failed to recognize. If I’m to recollect them now … it doesn’t matter.

The desire to ride, the longing to feel alone among strangers,

dirty seats and windows produces a feeling lost in translation.

Without a path, a final stop in mind I erradicated every possibility of a scape – trapping myself in a platonic existance. I was a tired body in the heart of downtown where vacant bodies I intend to possess. But not Donovan, he is someone to be with.

But if possessing a new one implies that I will have to learn to live their habits, sins, mediocrity I prefer the fate of an animal.

An animal that doesn’t fight destiny. That follows the course of the seasons like it’s the only way to live. No addictions except that of keep living. And killing.