Dancer

He's at ease, his body sculpted to the music, his shoulder searching the other shoulder, his right toe knowing the left knee, the height, the depth, the form, the control, the twist of his wrist, the bend of his elbow, the tilt of his neck, notes digging into arteries, and he is in the air now, forcing the legs up beyond muscular memory, one last press of the thighs, an elongation of form, a loosening of human contour, he goes higher and is skyheld.

I suppose one finally learns, after much searching, that we really only belong to ourselves.

I could tell from Anna's face that she had already told him about dancing in Saint Petersburg and that the memory weighed on her heavily. What monstrous things, our pasts, especially when they have been lovely. She had told a secret and now had the sadness of wondering how much deeper she might dig in order to keep the first secret fed.

What monstrous things, our pasts, especially when they have been lovely.

Watching them together slipped a knife between my ribs and hit my heart exactly.

Once we had filled each other with desire, not remembrance.

So you want to be a dancer? I asked. I want to dance better than I already do, he said.

You are a dancer for only a part of your life. The rest of the time you are walking around, thinking about it!

We have always absorbed our own disintegration.

Outside, the dark brushed the city and the wind unleashed the snow

My father had once told me the story of how, when he was in the work camp, a truckload of giant logs was brought in to be chopped. He was on ax duty with a gang of twelve. It was a dreadfully hot summer and each swing of the blade was torture. He hacked at a log and there was the unmistakable sound of metal hitting metal. He bent down and found a mushroom-shaped chunk of lead embedded in the trunk. A bullet. He counted the rings from the perimeter to the bullet and found they matched his age exactly. We never escape ourselves, he said to me years later.

If you are wise you step through the darkness only one foot at a time.

How long ago it was and how strange, but all dead friends come to life again sometimes.

Truth: When criticized you go berserk, but in your defense remember that it is those who calmly listen who never change.