Sunday, May 20, 2012

Face it Marco, I am your Polo

Whether you like it or not I am the other piece that came with you in the mould. I somehow know that you are now shaking your head and gasping from morbid shock. That doesn’t matter though. It will not change the fact that I am. Yes darling. I am the one whose name is written all over your star. You’re thinking there might be some mix up. Or maybe that if you had known, you would have changed stars. But we’ve come to a dead end now. And I don’t think the stars will be so glad to have someone demandingly knock on their front doors, you don’t know what they can do. They’re balls of fire after all. Plus, it must have taken them years or light-years locating the right universe and concentrating their powers on moving you toward me. I especially commend yours, since we’ve parted many a time, yet we still end up sitting beside each other by the neighborhood park bench over and over for some reason.

Remember way back? We graduated and left school. I had to go to the city for high school. We managed to meet by accident once every two years after that. On the second second year, I heard you were married. As an act of retaliation, I got myself a lovely mechanical engineering student to fish me out of my misery. On the third second year, my two-year relationship just ended, you found my number from a friend. We sms-ed and yeah. Our crazy minds figured perhaps the stars are in their supposed positions. We had a fling.

By fling I meant that two-month thing that could have lasted for the rest of our lives if I was not stupid enough to actually consider mature decisions at the age of 20. Nice one. I left you. But there was no fault in our stars (if I may borrow a book’s title). And if there was, the twinkling little fellows would be the most persistent things I’ve seen in my life. What do you know? We found each other again for some reason.

How else do you want me to put it? Shall I go as far as saying that I totally dig you? And when I say “dig” I don’t only mean like you like crazy, but also I know how you work. Your irritating disappearances, your total lack of care more often than excess of it, and the deficient way you express your emotion, I just know them like dreams that recur. The way you demand me to wait for you; when you can’t even wait patiently for ten minutes; or the way you need to be alone to manufacture music, I embrace them. When the world ends and you have not changed all these qualities, I am not one to ask the universe why you are what you are and I just find you as the glinting gold in a murky swamp.

Why can’t you just stop being stubborn and face reality? I know you can still take out pretty young ladies. You probably are with one while I am writing this. But does her birthday fall on a day that either precedes or succeeds yours consistently since the 1980’s? Does her name biblically allude to the wife of your name’s biblical allusion? And if you add one letter to her first, second, and last name will it equal to the number of letters in your first, second, and last name?

I know it’s lame; and quite creepy too. But don’t you think that’s just how the universe tells you that yeah. We are ordained that way.

11:45

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