Soul Purpose

Last night- we spoke. A sleepy me, in bed, (un)dressed to retire. You had just woken up. And for some reason had thought of calling me- perhaps because your reason to be in Jersey City was in Atlanta. My 30 bucks a month caller ID service does not extend to International calls. So I had no choice but to take the call. Could’ve been Buch. Or anyone else.

You spoke: in short sleepy sentences. I responded mostly in grunts: while flipping through inane TV channels; lest words betray more than is intended. But what’s there to hide? You had bared it all- so many years back. In black and white: on a train between Lucerne and Interlaken. And I …

I don’t think you remember the effect your sleepy voice had on me- the slow, sexy drag of syllables; the soft truncation of verbs. Perhaps, you do. 9AM was always early for you- whether in Nepeansea Road or in Jersey City. 11PM was always late for me.

Sooner or later, you will, for sure, get over me. Terminally. So will I. And then, we shall look back and laugh.

Or perhaps I should ask, why does love linger? Why is it that for some people the term “separation” doesn’t apply? Only existence. Or for that matter “the Significant Other”? Just an extension of the Self.