Friday, May 4, 2012

The Man That Life Built

He aches.  Here and there.  His body, unfamiliar.  In the thin morning, dawn stirs.  He sits silent on the edge of his bed.  Feels the carpet between his toes.  A navy glow burns through voile coverings.  He breathes.  Slides fingers through tousled hair.   His mind unfolds to waking.  

A girl shifts beneath a sheet, turns, and settles.  Without the chaos of the living hour, her smell tarries longer, swirls, rests on his memory.  Strawberries and champagne.  He bought it for her.  He turns as he sits, casts his eyes in her hair splayed across a pillow.  An ear, tip of her nose, eyelid, corner of her mouth.  He sighs, draws faith of familiarity into his lungs.  Smiles, feels a spark of spry passion in her vulnerability.  He’s loved her since the moment he learned the word. 

The clock chides.  He rises with twilight.  Muscle on bone, ligaments, joints, chatter and fracas weaving among the brawn.  Orchestra of the aging. 

A switch rapes the dark.  Filaments blaze.  Lids dim with wincing.  Carpet gives way to cool tile.  Above the sink, he sees the man that life built.  Broad as he is, heart beneath the tarnished armor of years.  Face of the weary, jaded against the spurious light of industry.   Sapience of time and play.  Burden of the needy and false.  Desire for wild things, organic seether of wicked locomotion. 

The banshee who lives in the sunrise wails his name.   He shuts his eyes against her incandescent judgments. 

Calls and bellows of unseen beasts echo against rock as he steps from behind falling water.  He draws the blood of the earth into the most desperate corners of his anemic audacity.  Into the water, he reaches, falls to his knees, and baptizes himself anew. 

As his eyes open again, he sees the man he knew snarling back at him.  Switches the light away.  Returns to the place he rose.  Buries himself into groaning and stretching strawberries and champagne.   Arms hold.  She squirms and settles.  He smiles.  
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Three truths and a lie in 33-333 words.

(Yes! it is really there.  Pinky swear.) 
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9 comments:

  1. 1) Your hubby. True.

    2) Girl beneath the sheets; strawberries and champagne. I'm going to leap and say this is true, just because you've had a recent anniversary.

    3)Wailing banshee- that's you, which means it's a lie.

    4)Showers and goes back to bed: true.

    Sheesh, Duese, throw me a bone! :lol:

    This is awesomely fantastic. Untanlging the images; letting them seep in until awareness came- fabulous.

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  2. So glad Tiktok read this one before me. I always appreciate good solid interpretations after a lovely (and terrifying) read. =)

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  3. First of all, tikkok gets the awesome vote - I'm a godawful guesser, and I wasn't even going to try, but knowing those things puts it into fabulous perspective. Second, even without knowing, what a glorious story. I loved how the sensual language contrasted with the man's growing recognition of his own aging.

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  4. Thanks so much for linking up to Trifextra this weekend. Wow, what a complex display of images. I loved it, especially the sweet ending of sinking back into the strawberries and champagne. Really nice writing. Hope to see you back again soon.

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  5. WOW! Powerful, and so full of fascinating imagery!

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  6. Incredible writing with such vivid imagery! Your words are so carefully chosen and convey the most incredible sentiments. Wow.

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