A story that won't be told
This is a story that won't be told. It's about a friend that I don't have. Who was married to woman he didn't know and children he had forgotten he had. He was not the best at what was a job he did not do but he was the greatest at the job he did not do. And he failed to attain a dream that had not come true. He gambled and did not wager his money. When he did wager it was money that meant nothing to him and the turn of cards he did not hold that moved him.
Someone ran with him but away from him. A tale was told between breaths. An idea was planted and took hold. There was a drawing in. There was an invitation. There was an event what could be called a seduction. It was into a hole that had no bottom. Beneath a wind that always blew. Inside a world that went out forever. Like a dream that seemed to last into waking and forever. And, falling into it he fell until it seemed as if he were rising.
If , at this moment, I had spoken his name he would not answer. It was a name he could no longer hear. So he flew away. There was a rejoining and reunion that did not come. There were tears that did not fall. There was a mouth laughing but made no sound. A hand reached out and no hand met that hand.
As this friend that I did not have moved on and the road curved down and away and into groves of new trees, and canyons of new shadows and fields of new explosions and competitions we stayed on our piece of ground and heard the stories of things that never happened coming back to us. If we cried I cannot recall it.
So without a moment's notice years had passed. Without a sunset, we had to sleep. But our friend we did not have could never sleep. The friend who was not ours could not rest and could not stop and could not draw a line or make a measure or say was it high or was it low because the very world itself by which and against which all such things are measured was gone a ghost.
Someone ran with him but away from him. A tale was told between breaths. An idea was planted and took hold. There was a drawing in. There was an invitation. There was an event what could be called a seduction. It was into a hole that had no bottom. Beneath a wind that always blew. Inside a world that went out forever. Like a dream that seemed to last into waking and forever. And, falling into it he fell until it seemed as if he were rising.
If , at this moment, I had spoken his name he would not answer. It was a name he could no longer hear. So he flew away. There was a rejoining and reunion that did not come. There were tears that did not fall. There was a mouth laughing but made no sound. A hand reached out and no hand met that hand.
As this friend that I did not have moved on and the road curved down and away and into groves of new trees, and canyons of new shadows and fields of new explosions and competitions we stayed on our piece of ground and heard the stories of things that never happened coming back to us. If we cried I cannot recall it.
So without a moment's notice years had passed. Without a sunset, we had to sleep. But our friend we did not have could never sleep. The friend who was not ours could not rest and could not stop and could not draw a line or make a measure or say was it high or was it low because the very world itself by which and against which all such things are measured was gone a ghost.
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