The joy of teaching a small child through play. Explaining degrees of rotation as a way of understanding how things twist. Subtly quizzing my pupil while playing with Lego Transformers. He remembered 360 degrees the next morning.
The icy halo of a harvest moon at midnight, an opal on deep blue velvet scattered with soft diamonds, when all the world is silent, crusted with snow and glittering in its pale light.
The comfort of poisonous things; the rainbows in a spill of gasoline
the feeling in my nose when you tell me you miss him. Warm, like when a sparring partner lands a firm shot. It hurts, but we both wish it didn't and in both cases I'm sure its my pride that stings the most
Those 10 seconds that passed as I pretended nothing was wrong even though I knew I'd wake up on the floor gasping for air begging them not to call the paramedics
The flash of high velocity, in the mirror, when all should be coming to rest, cementing the moment, the milliseconds before POP!, the hang, like falling, the surprisingly cogent realization before the next POP!, the fog of time, becoming aware of the pain in your nose, the pain across your chest, is it structural?, the smoke from the airbag, is it poisonous?, can I move?, some words, check your spine, you get out, you made it
The scent, in the basement of a stranger's home, long familiar and long forgotten. A nursery, a blanket, a late '70s sanitizer? Comfort, a memory before memory, no descriptor, just safety and the earliest discoveries of the world's behaviors. Sniff hard, try to capture it, to uproot the ancient recollections attached. Close your eyes, chase it down, like a fresh dream already escaping. Nope, gone. Maybe an acid-flecked image of a place, the basement of a church off the town square, but it lives in the murk
The dark brown acrylic floor mats in your father's car as he scrambled through The Sex Talk in the car on the way to church in metaphors you'd only come to contextualize and understand sixteen years later
The twinkle of the salt flats at sunrise, driving all night and day and night again through roadside rest stop tumbleweed and heavily caffeinated microsleep through the wilds of a very enchanted circle
The plaintive beep of your very overloaded inverter as it tells you and everyone in earshot that it's also hot and dusty and hungry and lonely and broken