soapboxdiner

And time, goes by...

Tonight has all been about the passage of time. It has been about the old.. and the new.. and the things that stay and the things that have always been.

Tonight I called Ron, who you may or not recall from earlier days. You may or may not remember him at all. But I do.

Ron met me at the club. I was wearing a blue and green pleating skirt and a tee. He was with his friend; he was a new father. He had a crack baby. The mother was strung out - but he wasn't. He was about his business. And as I came off the dance floor... I think I went out with my brother, but I could have been alone. But I came off the floor anyway, and I did it sweaty, ecstatic, and alone.

Ron was sitting there at the few, the coveted, the seats at a table in the club. I walked past. He tugged at the hem of my skirt. We talked. I sat on his knee; his arm folded ever so naturally around my waist, hand resting on my hip. We kissed. He called the next morning. We started dating - for two years on and off. We'd start, and then we'd end. Then we'd start again. Mot frustratingly and excitingly and fulfillingly and needfully, I assure you. I remember lying in his bed, satiated from our lovemaking when the phone rang. His brother. I'm sorry bro, my lady is here. I gotta go. I got my girl here with me.. I remember a year later, false starts and angry ends in between, lying on my very own bed, equally satiated. The candles were lit, the muslin-esque curtain fluttering in the summer night's breeze, listening to Sail On, Lionel Ritchie, him with his arms wrapped around me, us reading Ovid. Yes, Ovid.

And I called him tonight. Only, he's married now I learn. Roxanne is her name. Somehow very much more exciting than Carla.

Me.

I called Nora tonight. Saturday we'll go to the beach and play with frisbees and t-ball sets and baseball gloves. We will share macaroni salad with tuna and bask in the sun. We'll walk the boardwalk and watch my son play on the brand spanking new play ground beside Duck Island and the new condos that scream to me, "Own me! Love me! Live in me!" But I can't afford them yet.

Bu I can dream, and I can aspire. And I can hope.

But I still feel the longing of what I won't ever have again... and in a distracted sort of way, really wish it would have fit the first time. I miss him immensely, my Ron. I wish he could have stayed.

9:20 pm - 06.05.03
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