So, I’ve been trying to write an essay about a dance class I take.  It’s taken about 15 versions so far, none capturing what I want to capture.  I’m so far from what I originally wanted to capture and can’t figure out where I’m going with it.  To the extent I’m a writer, this disconnect has led to writer’s block.  In an effort to clean the slate and refresh my inspiration, I’ve kept going to dance class! Tonight, I also started flipping through some of the notes and thoughts I write most days. Many of these notes are the start of essays I eventually try to write, some are left to saturate alone on scratch paper, and some of which brew in my heart for a while and, though not forgotten, get buried underneath other thoughts.  I flipped through the pages and saw periodic poems, a string of haikus (my attention span has been shorter this year than usual!), and some highlighted sentences that stood out on some page, trying to remind myself that they could be kernels for some bigger something some day!  I pulled together some lines I liked, some of the haikus, some thoughts.  Trying to keep them as close to how I wrote them originally, I reordered them and re-paced them.  And though not a story of my dance class, I found a little tiny love story in there…..fiction based on non-sequential reality….

MATH EQUATIONS: A Patchwork Story

If I could explain
chemistry, connection, I’d
write simple stories

My dad once told me,
“He’ll tell you your eyes are pretty” –
He knew I knew you

Some other life lived
well, fully, the sun had set –
but we meet again

My body, curves, lines,
Slopes and paths, inviting views –
explore with no map

If math equations
are your music, your heart’s song,
then write them for me

The story unfolds
with twist, turns, unexpected —
but, still … that first gaze …

Legs curve, strong and firm,
step, climb, bend, push, hold, wrap, pulse –
they curve, all around (around him)

The most painful part
of him and i, no longer –
next date, no flutters

It is chilly here,
He gazes at me, eyes warm.
I search for you, long(ing) yearn(ing), hot

Momma is each song
about love, love, girls and boys
because hearts just know?

A gift so perfect,
hidden in my hiding spot,
what I couldn’t give

Small grains of sand
in time –  our story, or … small
grains of another.