Game Free

I don’t have game.

 

No. I don’t have “game”. In fact, my brother and sister have laughingly concluded I would be the worst candidate for “game”. I would give it all away in the way in the first five minutes, the same way that I cant keep a secret about what I bought you, or the way that the excitement that I feel when I see you is not at all contained and it escapes in the loud squeals as I run out to you, arms stretched out, telling you how good it is to see your face.

 

I don’t have game. I won’t pretend. In those five minutes of wonder, you are the very hinge from which my sun and stars are strung. In a planetary orbit, you’re the alignment that orders entire constellations and galaxies. You become the east, the dawn of all delight and the source of probing light to awaken every day.

 

I become focused on you, amazed by you, new play thing, phone me every night before bed, tell me stories, ask me about my day, learn about my friends, then come to my house and  take me out to eat, show me how you can drive (or cant drive), show me how you cant use a fork, show me how you treat a waiter with petty arrogance, insult my cat and I grow bored of you. Show me your flaws. I hear your same lines twice and watch how you try too hard. You mock me because of my neediness, my fingers don’t find your ticklish spot on your ribs, I lie awake long hours, as you sleep, watching you, a voyeur in my own bed.

 

You see, I don’t have game. I have limited personal resources. I have this greediness that prowls around like a roaring hungry beast. I want delight, motivation, beauty. I want a full shock and awe campaign. I want novelty. I want the rawness of unpolished and unrehearsed answers. I need to be limitless, it needs to be subconscious, let my mind wander into yours because somehow you bring me solace.

 

I am fully aware of those whom I intimidate, and those whom I do not. I look for broadness and strength. I look for the ability to be vulnerable, and the total lack of pretence.

 

I don’t have game, because I can promise you that what you see is real. However fleeting or momentary it may be. In that millisecond, the only star I thought about was you.

 

 

The Big Easy

I am for easy. I am for the relaxed way that things fit together, or for the way that they don’t. I am for walking side by side, the natural compensation between us for where your body fits against mine. I am for the allowance you create where you turn to invite me to be with you, without saying a word. One look and I am all yours and that you are mine. I am for the way you look for me, in a group of people, the way that strangers know we have this thing, the assumptions that onlookers have when we walk by the awareness of the cohesiveness that we portray.

I am for easy. The way that who I am does not intimidate you. I can throw a thousand prickly things your way. You react to only one thing, and it’s only to laugh at me, or make fun of a silly weakness.  The rest is forgotten, irrelevant. They pass away as fast as they come. The anxiety of me doesn’t fell you. You are stoic and strong. Your strength fills all of my empty spaces, the same way my sillies fill yours.

I am for easy. I am for climbing into the space in I am invited in to. I am for taking what is offered. I am for making what possibilities from what there already is.

You are for easy too. The way you know you can have the best of me.