Suffice it to say, I’m not much into “proofs” – in language or tone. Suspect I can’t believe them. I won’t be able to prove there’s an interstice – I know that. Won’t even attempt ‘within reason.’ Suggest.
There’s no “let me explain.”
– “Explain what?” she inquires, “exactly.”
Exactly the point, I would say, or nearly precise – that there isn’t. I don’t know. But it seems we converge – in some tiny remarkable space within time (or vice-versa) we’re dismissed. Or not-missed – how to say it?
There’s a meeting. It seems. In a margin or more.
Our hallways (think architecture?) overlap?
I don’t know. I’m just saying, in hopes to be, to look at you longer. Longer. It’s a fight against death, that small word. Simply, longer. With you.
Am I clear? Making any sense? I don’t know.
– “Clear as mud, what you’re saying,” she says “near ‘exactly.’”
I don’t know. It’s unwise.
And I hum when the words sound just so.
– “Just so, how, exactly?” she asks.
Interaction. Locution. Between (I am thinking).
“Interstitial,” I say. Interstitially? How could I know. It’s all susceptible to the mark. The mark of the question. I think of changing my own name. Have before. I like titles. It was “Mark” for the question, the sign, and its music. I would be Mark, Remarking. The one with the curlicue brand, like the Zorro but curved with a point…on everything = ?
“My point exactly,” I tell her (she stays) – leaving my mark. (If she’ll stay, I’ll rescind, anything).
It’s okay. I’m familiar. Not that you worried. There’s no worries, it’s all temporarily temporary – both state and enaction. It’s just so (so it seems). “Just-So Stories” he wrote, long ago, they’re alike and akin, episodic. We describe.
Neither here and/nor there. Interstitial. In-between. What I wanted to tell her, to say. And I would have, had I known.
– “Known what, exactly?” she once said, and I stopped, for the meaning was lost, nonexistent. Just so.
“That’s just how it is” I had said. And don’t know, was surmising. The world hypothetical and inspired ( I thought, at the time ) – simply possible. I was wrong (perhaps). But she stayed (temporarily). The words lose their meanings.
I hum. To myself.
I write: “This is what I wanted to do.”