Deep Purple

May '04

I noticed you were deep purple today. Something about the way you sat made me think that. You were smoothed out and steady, a feather on the breeze. But I saw your bruises yesterday, the blue mascara rings that tugged at your tired eyes, and I heard the tightness in your laughter as we sat, steam rising from our coffees, not talking about the memories forced on your body.

How are we so resilient, that a scratch on the calendar blankets the noise?

The places in me that understand this transition, that create the quintessential victim/lover/hero triad, want to taste the smoothness of your smile, share in the forced bravery that molds inner strength, that couples in the mirror with the apple's perpetual soft spot.