Tuesday, March 29, 2011

i was in nyc

The flag was hanging vertically from the building, just hanging there as if gravity were a mistake.

Noise didn’t matter. Tears didn’t matter, and you’d need more than moonlight. You could be the drunkest man on the planet and it wouldn’t have made any difference.

And why should it? It wasn’t as if the flag were outside Army HQ. It wasn’t even at a public school building, much less a bank. Still.

Later when the wind picked up and the people inside saw it flapping and writhing, they put their hands to their heads as if their hats might fly off.

And as I always do when my wish comes true I began wishing the exact opposite, all the while knowing even if the wind did settle down it had nothing to do with me.

Sometimes it’s better not to read too much into things.
Sometimes even the smallest desire seems an enormous impertinence.


Anonymous said...

It is so hard to take yourself out of the cause of something happening. I was a psych undergrad and after seeing how chickens act after the drop of a food pellet makes me think how random the majority of our actions are.

I wish read Rain more often. Thanks for the thoughts.

Kass said...

Enormous impertinence.

For some reason this just sticks in my head and I can't help but wonder if it just flew into yours or if you had to think and think until you arrived at the impertinence of it all.

Love the whole piece.

Kathleen said...

This is wonderful. I've come back to it after reading two things that made me think of it and you:

1) An article on NYC vs MFA writers in the USA
2) "Zenobia" by Gina Berriault (in Women in Their Beds, my blog subject today)

The narrator is Zenobia herself, from Ethan Frome, addressing Edith Wharton, saying how it really was inside herself...

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