Rivulets and Sand Dunes

His head was a little drowsy. The music was loud, country. Foot tapping on the floor. He felt the fingerprints on his index as he rubbed one against another. Eardrums throbbing in a convex curve. Sound coming out in a plane. Eyes brimming with light. Fingertips tapping out an impatient melody against the wooden table. He spread them out over it. It felt strange. Smooth and rough. Rivulets and sand dunes. It felt poetic. He took in a deep breath of air through his nostrils. Nothing. The air smelled of nothing. He could feel it. Cool air through his nostrils. Without odor. His stomach grumbled meekly. He swayed a little and put his head on the shoulder of his best friend. She patted it. He was silent. In front of him sat a beautiful girl. Light grey eyes deep as the ocean on a starry night. Hair gold as silk. He tapped his foot on the ground and closed his eyes. Her eyes twinkled with laughter as they played a prank on someone. Her smile wide and beautiful. He closed his eyes and sighed inside.

Life was and remains a mystery for most of us. Even when we think we have seen the path, or are on the right track, are taking those steps that supposedly lead somewhere, even when we are blindly certain of our end goals, we don’t know. We never do. Blind faith seems the remedy of the day. Without it? Without it, we’d all be mad. But maybe we are. Maybe we’re all mad here. The cat was wise. Believing in things beyond what we can observe or measure. Beyond what we know or see. Convincing ourselves, maybe even deluding ourselves.

She was a goddess carved out of beauty. Inscribed into the hearts of those who were blessed by the vision of her.

But maybe we're all mad. Maybe we just convince ourselves of things that aren’t true. Maybe that one thing we don’t understand. That feeling in our stomach. That sinking feeling, that rising feeling. We understand it so little that we’ve given ludicrous terms to it. Butterflies in my stomach. Heart rising. Heart sinking. Animals don’t flutter around in our acid filled stomachs. The heart is mute. Unmoving. It is also not, well, heart shaped. It is a complex system of ventricles and atria, and even reading about those things confuses you. You can’t exactly imagine what those are, like you can when I mention an apple.

She flipped her hair. His heart did a take. He closed his eyes. Her image did not leave him. Even in the darkness, it was there.

We all crave intimacy. Good or bad, right or wrong. All we want is intimacy. People are too remote, too separate. Away from one another. Away from feeling. Away from humanity.

She was perfect. The image of beauty. Athena’s stormy grey eyes. The figure of Aphrodite. The smile of Apollo. Blessed by Zeus himself. He closed his eyes, and whisked himself away.