August 22nd, 2003
Lovers
…Originally recorded August 14th…
There are no lovers at the Kamogawa today. The steady rain continues, making the river run high and quickly. I’m perched like a pelican under my umbrella on a red granite bench, a small plastic bag for a seat cushion. Here, alone at the Kamogawa, just north of Gojo, I look across to the west bank and see the large pagoda’ed restaurant where just about this time last year I was taking Nobue’s picture. She was so beautiful…it made me feel strangely on edge, but weak.
I wonder why I came back up here. To torture myself is the only thing I can imagine. Maybe I thought I could come to terms with things somehow, but the contrary is quite true. It just makes me wish I would run into her. But if I did, I have no idea what I’d say…wanting to speak the precise words needed to make it all back to the way it was…to make it all perfect and magical, her and I in love like I thought we were. But the truth is there are no such words. There is no combination of feelings or gestures on appearances in any reality that would change things, let alone me understanding the way she felt. And as Reagan said “you can’t change her mind about how she feels, and even if some how you miraculously could, isn’t that something you don’t want, really?”
My heart is so twisted, I don’t even know what I’m feeling anymore…a mix of pain, longing, peace and joy from memories’ nostalgia of everything dead.
