The Dangling Conversation

Phillip (see previous entry) was listening to Simon and Garfunkel last week so that inspired me to dig out some of my old cds and take another listen. Their songs are so nice. Two gentle, harmonious voices singing poetry. I wish there was more music like that today. Sometimes, I feel like I was born into the wrong era.

It's a still life water color,
Of a now late afternoon,
As the sun shines through the curtained lace
And shadows wash the room.
And we sit and drink our coffee
Couched in our indifference,
Like shells upon the shore
You can hear the ocean roar
In the dangling conversation
And the superficial sighs,
The borders of our lives.

And you read your Emily Dickinson,
And I my Robert Frost,
And we note our place with bookmarkers
That measure what we've lost.
Like a poem poorly written
We are verses out of rhythm,
Couplets out of rhyme,
In syncopated time
And the dangled conversation
And the superficial sighs,
Are the borders of our lives.

Yes, we speak of things that matter,
With words that must be said,
"Can analysis be worthwhile?"
"Is the theater really dead?"
And how the room is softly faded
And I only kiss your shadow,
I cannot feel your hand,
You're a stranger now unto me
Lost in the dangling conversation.
And the superficial sighs,
In the borders of our lives.

These lines in particular (And I only kiss your shadow/I cannot feel your hand/You're a stranger now unto me) got me thinking. Last week I spent some time with a friend who has recently gone through a fairly painful breakup. We were talking about how shocking it is when the person that you shared a bed with for years becomes a virtual stranger to you. I find that realization quite sad, but most definitely the truth. Sometimes I hear things about my ex-boyfriend (things he's said or done) and I think to myself "oh, he would never have said/done/thought that" but the reality is that I really have no idea about anything he'd do or say or think because so much distance has come between us. The image in my head of him is not reality. He is an image that is made up of selected memories. It makes me wonder if I ever really knew him or whether he was always just an image that I created by holding on to the memories that I liked and throwing away the memories that I didn't. But, that leads me into wondering if we ever really know anyone. And that is far too philosophical for a Monday : )

Either way, stranger or not, it doesn't really matter. We've both come to a place where we treat each other with a guarded niceness. This past weekend he was going to a party and sent me a quick email to see if he might bump into me there. When he hears about important things happening in my life, he tends to check in with me, and I do the same with him. It's not the same as it was between us, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. Over time we may grow closer friends or we may become even further estranged...and if I've learned anything, it's that whichever way it goes will be the way it's supposed to be.