Let's Try This Again

it's mid-winter, after dark. we're sitting on the main building's porch before sacrament, just you and me. i'm sprawled sideways across one of the bigger chairs, the ones we picked up from the estate sale last fall. there's snow on the ground, heavier piles on the curbs and a fresher coat on the sidewalks. the sky is bright and grey, the air is still and quiet. there's very light snowfall, only visible when you look at the streetlight on the corner.

"so at the hardcore show on sunday i got hit in the head pretty hard. we were doing a wall, right. i love those, theyre kind of crazy fun. everyone had cleared the middle of the room, all the way back, & we were about to run at each other."

i pull out a pack of cloves. a car drives past, real slow and careful, and its engine briefly overshadows the muted voices coming from the bar next door. "Anathema left these when she visited. i don't usually smoke, but split this last one with me?" you assent {(or do you? i can't make that call from where i'm sitting)} and i resume - "where was i again? right, the wall." i mutter a quick prayer under my breath and flash some hand signs at the ground - "may my heart flow liquid, may i speak only truth. she that is us that is i, become my breath."

"so i got hit in the head. not my first time getting concussed at a grinning death show, not the worst either. remind me, remind me to tell you about that one sometime. you have to remind me. i remember lining up for the wall, i remember flipping up my hood and making eye contact across the room, and then it was later and my head hurt. i don't really know what happened in there. i went out back and sat down behind the shed so i could get some quiet. concussions always make me feel kinda stupid, like, i'll notice a thought right after i have it and go "that is not normal thinking." it makes me feel small. i kinda like it. so while i'm sitting there, i look down and theres this amethyst on the ground. who knows how long it had been there. one of the little double-pointed ones that you see in a million necklaces-hey i took a picture actually, let me just show you:"

"now its kind of funny that its an amethyst, because those are associated with sobriety and clear-headedness, and i feel kinda fucked up from getting hit. its also my birthstone." it's yours, too, but I don't mention that. did i forget? "so i basically decide this amethyst is my best friend and that it loves me. it made sense at the time. and ive been testing out those new warsigils, right, i showed you earlier, the one with the three hearts, that Eightplex got from the future? so anyways i channel the goddess and i take this stone and i use it to draw the hearts on my chest, and the flow sigil on the wall beside me. theyre glowing, and the gem is glowing, and im glowing, and i eat it. yeah, yeah, "bad dog, stop eating things you found on the ground." very funny. shut up."

we sit in silence for a minute. "i wanna move. walk around the block with me?" I swing my legs around, get up, and offer you a hand. "if you don't move your body, no one else is gonna do it for you." the warm glow of the lights shines out from windows like eyes. the wall is painted in a riot of symbols and color, with glowing swirls dripping down and around the windows. you like to think of the building as taking these long breaths, a day at a time, the glow charging and fading. there are some designs in ultraviolet, too, but you can't see them. "For the bees," Spiral had said. "I want to paint something for them too!"

my mannerisms change. you're used to this by now. "i ate the rock. it was kiinda big but still smaller than my magnesiums. it felt really heavy. and i was still kinda stupid from getting hit. i started getting sleepy-tired, my head was spinning-" i spin in a circle to illustrate. "spiiiiinning." i look expectantly and wait until you spin, too. "so i lay down. and i listen real good, i unfold my ribs into a big antenna and wrap them around the myself and the rock like a blanket and we're all cozy together like that. the teeth in my stomach chewing on mr. rock, the resonance in my ribs and spine, alll the eyes watching over me. and it had something to say, something to say to you, actually."

we pass the wall where many hands have written love letters to dead friends, telling them that it turned out okay, telling them everything we wish they could have seen. it's been a long, long time since we've had to write a new one.

"it told me to tell you this:" i spin on my toes, make eye contact and wait for us to attune to each other. after the first line, you recognize the old prayer, and we speak it in unison, the words well-worn, coming easily.

"it said that tonight we're saying the prayer for all our sisters. it said that tonight, the past is permeable, and that they'll be able to hear us if we sing loud enough. we gotta tell them, okay? we gotta make sure they hear."

i gesture for you to pass me the clove cigarette. there's a dusting of snow on my jacket, long and black with big whorls of red painted on it. they twist a bit under your gaze. i draw too deep and cough for a few seconds, before dramatically falling on the ground. the patterns on my jacket are still. "i'm dead. i've died and now i'm dead. help me stand up?" you do, and I shake off the snow. "c'mon, let's go inside, everyone's waiting for you."