down in me

I’m not lovestruck, lovelorn, lovesick. Two girls in my bed and love piled in the corner. Lying on either side of me, pink flesh and honey-coloured bottoms whispering obscenities through my mind. Uncovered, we explore ourselves and each other in turn surveying the vast, internal landscapes. Their cold, white feet kiss my insides as we stroll in the meadow and drink from the stream. We pet unicorns and pluck barely blooming morning glory from its rightful nestling among the leaves. We bathe in a warm, naked light, briefly pausing to admire the stillness. A tranquil white glow emanates from our pores. Touching the empty spaces between our bodies we sigh and laugh in unison. I’m not in love with love or this idea or this thought. On a sleepless night a rare and fleeting occurrence: I want nothing more than what I’ve been given.

VictoriaDistrict line at 7:35 on Monday morning. I searched for identifying features, I know some of them, enough of them to know. I looked strangers in the eye but saw past them. They’re not you. Not what I know of you. Not what I’ve seen of you. But if I saw you, would I know you? Would you know me? I’m the invisible one, drifting along in my thoughts. Every morning I mindlessly drop my book at your feet. You retrieve it and eyeball the cover before handing it back to me. You alight at King’s CrossActon Town with a beguiling frown. Drink?

Olfactory memories wafting in uninvited and perhaps imagined. I’m doing something or nothing and it hits me. Someone walks by or doesn’t, wearing her perfume or not. A soft breeze brings it creeping through the window, tickling my nose.

There’s two distinct fragrances. The first she wore when she was frozen in time for me, at age 29. The scent carries soft, billowing folds of muted gold satin as a backdrop against the skin of her thin, tan arm glittering with tiny gold flecks. Tenderness and safety overwhelm me in an instant. An instant that’s impossible to hold.

The second is the fragrance she wears presently. Something more grown up but equally sweet that permeates everything but provokes no images.

We stopped being mother and daughter and became pretend-friends many years ago, when she was frozen, aged 29. Curiously, I’m 29 now. And every so often, I long for her essence.