Desert

Sunday morning. Alone in a coffee shop. Not the way one is supposed to conclude a night with one's lover, or boyfriend, quite. But then he's not my lover, is he. He doesn't love me, for starters. And he doesn't find me attractive. Any other man would respond to my naked body with some kind of attention. He doesn't see it. We sleep together, he on his back, my head on his shoulder. Or, occasionally, his back to me, my right arm around his chest. He rarely returns the favor. I am lonely by his side. He pays more attention to his dog than to me.

We talked about it a little bit, on the way down the hill from his house. He was off to volleyball. Not that he plays these days. But he would rather be there with the guys than with me. So I've come to this coffee shop.

What am I doing? Why am I stay by his side? Why does he want me to? There are other men, after all. Why am I trying to convince myself that I prefer the company of this man who never touches me to the others, whose hands I push away? I say--I don't want to be pawed, I don't want to repulse them. I don't have any libido. I'm too sad.

Even a cat needs to be petted.

I long for intimacy. I long for CY. For his deep, soft kisses. His navy eyes seeing me. The root of him strong within me.

But that's over.

And there is only this desert, this harsh landscape of failure, of disillusion, of needing to change.

I am not going to get tenure. The book is not done, not under review anywhere. I've not brought it to fruition. I'd be slaughtered, crucified. I can't go through that. Better to leave without having been denied, beaten up, torn apart.

I have mixed feelings. Mostly I feel stunned. Shocked. It's not as though I didn't know. It's just that I haven't been able to do it. I've fallen into the tarpit too many times. I've worked and worked and worked on this thing. Like an overworked canvas, it gets worse and worse.

I'm both too close and too far away from it. I've been writing in despair for how many years now? four? five? six?

In despair for how many years now?