The longing that came with the music as it swarmed my head, staring out the car windows at steely rocks and trees and green drippingness, and then also the red baked desert and flaming canyon walls and clouds floating above, supported by the horizon in the distance. Dreaming as the dreams around inspired: of impossibilities evidenced by the landscape surrounding, imbibing my brain with unreal expectations that were fulfilled but for a few days...and once back to the unglazed reality with cities and smog and humid sogginess and absent mountains...there the glass shattered, there the realized dreams were strangled, snuffed, shattered.
I stared at them with eyes absent of emotion. I had expected such, but a few minutes and moments had led me to believe that my expectations were perhaps harsh projections...that needn't be.
I thought.
And I think of one that drifted back to me, hovering like a hazy cloud of smoke over me, looking down, telling me of my soft skin and how I coudn't be a bad teacher, gazing me with eyes of turquoise, something wise as the rocks floating behind them.
Instead of finding enamorment with the eyes, I pine for one who only flirts about, flittingly calling my name among the tall trees, and then disappearing. I still hear his echoing distant voice calling my name. And then. Just laughter at my folly, to believe the impish glint in his eye. I'd mistaken the mischevious for admiration of a character.
My heart burns with longing. What for? Surely not these boys which burn and disappoint.
A heart and its love intrigues, and as it confounds, I am still filled with hope and longing for its future.
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