Saturday, 10 August 2013
In Another World
He says that from the moment he first laid his eyes on me, he knew we had met in another world. In another time, maybe when I wore long skirts and smoked weed, and he was a world-peace activist, our hands clasped around each other as they are now. He says in that world, we neither married nor had kids because it would have messed up our mojo. But we were so into each other, he tells me. He says he met me in another world, and I smile, trying my best to disagree with him without being too harsh and rude. I smile, because I think it's cute that he's trying to make sense out of the attraction, passion and heat that we feel running through our blood for each other. I smile but don't believe what he says. See, I know and remember nothing about anything that isn't in my current world and I don't believe that my spirit could have been in Cleopatra's body once. Why would a spirit want to come back to be in captivity when it can be free? It doesn't make sense. Not that the thrill that runs through my body when his hand is wrapped so tightly around my waist makes sense nor does the joy of having him next to me. But I choose to think about the now- his eyes, his rather large nose and his strangeness. I choose to focus on him now because this is what I have: the present...a present.