luciana asked me to write ... - TheBody.com's Bulletin Boards

Luciana asked me to write something for her. Or rather, she is
the editor of WomanAlive or a newsletter or something, and who
knows what else. We were talking one day about the difficulties
an HIV positive person has in finding a romantic relationship. I
mentioned how it was harder for the straight male population,
most of all, and she asked me to write something about it. I
should have stuck to computer games. It was much more painful
than I thought it would be, writing this; a real horror story, at
least for the writer. That explains the title, which is in a way
the story of my life. My thoughts tend to run together when I
think about women, and my problem, but it always starts out and
ends up the same way, more or less, jumbled thoughts in my mind,
like this...

women are such wonderful creatures my god look at her move so
elegant and earthy and alive... hmmm... i wonder if she has a
boyfriend... if not what would I tell her... i wonder what
happened to jennifer... we talked an endless stream, deep and
full of meaning, shared about things that mattered like hopes and
dreams and fears... spirit... she saw this little squirrel statue
and put a cigarette butt in its mouth and then laughed and
laughed and laughed... she was fantastic she would notice things
like the texture and color of a bush... she looked at things i
had seen so many times their novelty had long disappeared into
the dustbin of my memories, but she made it seem new again
through her eyes... she was fascinating, all i noticed...
memories how pathetic that’s what it’s come to memories like old
trophy’s i pull them off the shelf and wipe the dust off them to
see if they still shine... like she did... and when she left i
felt like i’d just gotten kicked in the stomach because i didn’t
know i would never see her again... but i felt that way because i
really did know, in my subconscious, where the ghosts are... so i
burned her number and address... my eyes stung as i watched them
burn in a little pyre because now i knew consciously- because how
could i tell her? so i blinked away the tears and told myself to
quit sniveling don’t be pathetic went on stonefaced grim and ugly
because things were tough then and i couldn’t afford to feel
sorry for myself... and couldn’t figure out how to tell a woman
that my love could kill her because i was death in microscopic
little packages... it would be nice to smell her hair, kiss her
on that soft downy spot on her neck, feel her body pressed
against mine soft and warm and all woman... but what do you say?
and then that voice in my head says ya know if you really loved
her you’d walk away and never look back... so you burn phone
numbers and find things not to like about them because it’s only
going to hurt anyways but once in a while one manages to get
under your skin (fool!) so you walk away but you look back ten
maybe twenty years when you started throwing your life away a
montage you see all the women you just want one you keep looking
back you see death gaining but your not running your living dying
daring hoping wishing c’mon! and maybe death is a woman an end to
your x-files existence its disjointed death erotic a woman the
end relief salvation the fantasy dies you go cold your just a
grinning skull... you shouldn’t look back fool and don’t look at
the women either it will only hurt... so you see another woman
she smiles you don’t... you run hard until it hurts and the
mindburn goes away melted into your physical pain somewhere but
then a flashback on the edge of a song gets into your mind and
the years peel away to an ancient hurt that you throw out like an
old banana peel you found hidden under the sofa... you run faster
maybe you can catch that sunset run right into that golden light
to the place where your dreams are... is it true what they say is
it true? is man closest to god in the arms of a woman? What do I
mean when I say it is harder for a hetero male? No apologies, no
regrets, for that statement. I’m not going to explain it because
it would only insult your intelligence, and I want you to think.
But I do hope you enjoyed my little foray into stream of
consciousness. Or is it stream of unconsciousness?

Post Extras: Remind Me!