conjure

I did NaNoWriMo last month, for two whole days.

This is what I came up with:

(November 10 2008)


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CHAPTER 1
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Gonna get loved up and caught out again with this one. I see his face on every body's face. I'm on a park bench in the West End with locals screaming mother fucker touching wrong on my sister and I can't help dreaming about you. I open my eyes to see a man ride past through the semi-darkness with black jeans on and a white shirt, and I think it's you. Everybody's you. You're everywhere and everything and I can't stop myself from wondering.

How long's it gonna take for me to set your world ablaze, and mine too?

I get on the bus and the drunks pile in behind me. The woman I sit next to scoffs a little and straightens her heavy black collar. The stench of dense perfume streams up my nostrils. I flare them at her, eyes piercing into her eyes. She doesn't notice. She's sending a text with long talons tip-tap-tapping away. Glitter, dark and gray, pounding into keys. Tones violate my ears, the sounds mix with the broken flickering lights above my head. Dark ... light, light. Dark ... light, light. Tip ... tap, tap. Tip ... tap, tap...

A ring tone startles me. I'd fallen asleep. Bells from the seat in front chime. Hello mate, he says, what's that? I can't hear ya mate, I'm going through a tunnel. Yeah ... hang on.

The man looks at his phone and squints. He pushes a red button slowly and carefully, and sighs. The guttural echo of the under-pass drowns out his attempts to redial and look out the window. The bus engine chugs around a corner. We pull over into the light of street lamp.

The people stand up and walk off. More people take their seats.

I recognise a face from the bar up the street from my house. The boy with the dark hair and the piercing through his lips, and nose. People around me seem to recognise him, too. I watch their eyes follow him up the aisle as he makes his way down the bus. He keeps his eyes lowered, looks down, his hair covers his eyes. I noted that he has headphones in as he takes his seat and looks out the window.

It's 6:45pm, the big tower dongs three rings for the quarter hour.

Through Fortitude Valley the express bus moves quickly. And then we stop again.

Move further to the back! The driver shouts an order.

We've passed Anzac Square and the Springhill Windmill, our suits salute to the Australian dream. One by one these passengers make it home in the dark for another late night up worrying about the state of the world, before finally settling into bed.

I look out the window and picture all the people climbing into bed later on.

I dream of laying beside my lover. Forgetting the stress of the day, I drift, fade, and disappear into your warm arms, in my mind.





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CHAPTER 2
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It's midday and I get a call from you. You're downstairs.

I drop a pen to the floor and accidentally kick it underneath the table. God damn it! I mutter, and look around to see if anyone saw me drop the pen. Three men in shirts and ties are typing near me, a woman with puffy brown locks nods along to headphones at her desk.

I look under my table. I reach into the small, dark gap between the carpet and the wood. I reach in, and find nothing.

My phone rings again. It's you again. I shove the phone into my pocket.

I grab my swipe card and tare out our second story front door. I race past the lift to the fire escape and push open the hard wooden blockade between the second story and my lover. I pound down the stairs, flying two at a time. I round the corner at the bottom and slam down the handle. I push the heavy door open with my shoulder and fall outside.

Smoke rushes my face. I squint my eyes at the sun.

I peek through through the glare and see you standing near your bike, arms crossed and looking across the road. I sneak over to you and stroke my hand through your hair. You jump slightly. You spin around and catch my eyes in yours. We smile.

I extend my arms out and you're suddenly all around me. I fall into your soft chest and close my eyes. January runs through my mind. The plane takes you away forever then.

...I push January out of my mind.