Softness

8-1-07:

There is also the possibility of softness.

8-12-07:

You want to be slurped. You want something squishy, wet. That’s why you like rain after months of indifference. That’s why you like coffee. Someone once declared strength to be important. Boys will haul rocks around all day long and not complain. To yield is to be weak. To be weak runs the risk of evaporating.

They are all turning around and looking at the path and feeling smug. Meanwhile inside they are cracking. They feel like they’ve feigned their way. They feel like frauds. They didn’t even know what they were doing. And now, the rocks all piled up. Now they have a responsibility.

Look, the boys are still hauling. Someone is barking orders at them. They stop and mark territory. They curl their lips into snarls. They bury the bones. Hauling, heaving, hovering. Things that rub together too closely are weighed down by muscle. The gravity of having to prove one’s self. If you stopped for a minute. If you set the rock down. You’d see something smooth out of the corner of your eye. You could bend down and hold out your hand. A tongue would touch it. Would you feel it?

Or is it too late?