Push

I stare into darkness from my narrow bed hearing the sound of tire spin on slick streets. Waiting for sleep with the maddeningly random radiator tick, I forget the more regular, far too fast, beating of my heart. I catch myself not taking breath, place my left hand on my diaphragm to be certain of a calming movement there. Four seconds in four seconds out. I place the palm and fingers of my right hand on top of my skull, seeking its shape, keeping everything in place. My eyes pick out the outline of shaded windows, glowing clock-face and television tube, their lines and curves, keeping time alive, clear and persistent.

I seek out corners where there is no reminder of day, points of darkness and absence. I stare into them, leaning in, as if a strong wind pushed my thoughts. Lack of light, of time, makes patterns–bursts and swirls, ovals and long shapes not seen open-eyed—ill-defined, purple and redblack. They spin and jump in groups, like dancers from another ballroomed century, then fall still as everything will. Others take flight then fall as well.

With the balls of my thumbs, I press lightly on my eye lids. My face must look as if I am in a sandstorm–eyes squinting and clenched jaw with lips tight and prim. To see just anything, over time, blind kids end up beating at their eyes with fists. Many must be restrained. We need something to see, even just the light of nerves and pain. I push again, harder, just to the edge of hurts. Pictures return to blow and dance before slipping left, right out of reach again.

I stare into what is missing—my future, the fog and smoke of plans and wanting. My years fall away. My eyes tear with stress, so the patterns do split and multiply. I rock my head left/right, eyes squeezed tight. It is all there in front of me everyway. Up ahead, my eyes, mind, of all things my need to see, they make the dance. I want to take the hard sharp edges of tomorrow days and my unformed dreams and push them down, hard into my mind to find the axis of unfulfilled desire, to see how pretty what could be.