Losing love is like a window in your heart… said Paul Simon
Sounds breezy, sounds exposed
Bugger it, I’ll go to Graceland too!
I’ll take Barbara. We’ll bounce together, we’ll blow together
I can explain, she said
I wake up with a grown man’s fist squeezing my heart ’til the only thing that helps is to sigh
For a short milisecond or two, as the veined hand approaches from the dark, I rest, suspended in peace
I will myself, like a master of lucid dreaming in those first few moments of semi-consciousness, to stay unaltered, in that state: not to remember, to take another trip
Then the punch connects, tears beyond bones, past intercostals and clamps around the warm bundle of bruised heart
These are the days of reality and human messiness
Of disappointment, of anger, of loss. Grace gone
And I wonder if the boy in the bubble had it right after all?
Oh, It’ll pass, it is passing, I know. These are the days of miracles, he says.