trying not to detach

last night you held my face so carefully, more than i've ever felt

and everything was supposed to make sense but it didn't

i couldn't understand any of it

tried not to think but i did

tried to let go but i couldn't

why does everything in me reject the kind of closeness that is so rarely beautiful, that moves us to love?

i'm trying, please let me try

while i was in San Francisco this last week, we volunteered at a meal service. i worked in the coffee lounge where all the handicapped people ate.

i met two men here named Cliff and William. Cliff was in a wheelchair, and he had a hard time pouring his own water, so William would do it for him, and they would smile at each other while doing it.

William said little while Cliff said many things. we talked about art, and he asked if i was the type of artist who preferred photo-realism and naturalistic qualities in art. i said, no, not really, art is subjective and should be allowed to break away from real world representation.

"ahh, so you're one of us," Cliff said, and the mutual appreciation i felt between us filled me up. we had gone past that dividing line of has and has not. the 4 causes of aristotle came up, and he recommended me different metaphysical literature. he had roadtripped a lot when he was younger, and he told me to travel everywhere as long as i could. he found curse words distasteful.

and then, we talked about AIDS and car accidents and health insurance. "you are a sweetheart, listen to me honey, if there is anything you should take from me, it's to get health insurance! do it!" they both laughed with light hearts that covered up those deep regrets. "don't give it up to just anybody, keep your legs closed, and you only live with a boyfriend when you trust him. love maybe comes second."

but the thing that got me, the thing that untangled it all, was one of the last things he said. "you know these enormous San Francisco hills? sometimes, when we're at the top, i make him" (here, he jabbed a finger and a smile at William) "let me go by myself, so i feel like i am free again."

and without skipping a beat, William said, "but i'm always too afraid i'll lose him." Cliff squeezed William's hand.

the next day, one of the people in my group said he saw them outside the Glide kitchen, waiting in line again, and i wished so hard that i had been the one to see them again.

William pushes Cliff's chair all over San Francisco every day, up and down those enormous San Francisco hills. and maybe they don't have any money or walls or jobs... but i have never seen two people love each other the way they did. that's remarkable, and it gives me hope.