There are ups and downs with a weed woman. David learned this with Bethany.  Sometimes it’s just you.  Other times it’s her.  And you play off each other…  You can’t get advice on a woman from a woman.  You’ll never figure them out this way.  And a man can’t tell you about a woman either.  They can just tell you what a man would do.  There are masculine and feminine sides to both genders.  Sometimes a woman acts like a man.  And a man can act like a woman.  But these roles become nonsense once a child’s involved.  Then the roles become distinct, and you learn a little more on comparisons.  You really don’t learn anything at all.  You unlearn it.  What you are in everything.  What a woman is.  And a man.  You just remember and forget.  Over and over.  You remember and forget that love sees no differences, but it’s hard to own up to that when loving yourself is threatened.  That freedom without fear.  Memories just get in the way, and then you begin to depend on them.  They are both the comforter and reasons why you are afraid until you figure out that there’s nothing to figure out, and when this is figured out the fear goes away and you know what love is.  You lose yourself in the comparison, and you believe all others have lost themselves in the comparison too, and this is how you become one with them.  And live long enough like this you discover there are sides to it.  Good sides and dark sides, not discerned by fear, but by what’s attained by them, what’s contained.  For one promises something and the other does not.  The hypocrites the ones lying that they’re not making promises in one that’s a denial in the other.  The negatives in one the positives in the other—two worlds going on, infinitely sliced together in the same time—all time.

And then it happens.  A child is born.  Between a man and a woman.  That’s when you really lose it.  In the smoking habits David created with Bethany they were constantly losing themselves to find each other again.  They weren’t ready for this child, and even though they celebrated in it, they were haunted by prophecies.  David remembered the old man in the quarter, his times in Mississippi sleeping in Rosie’s bed.  Bethany remembered the old woman that birthed her, in the medicine she was given with her ex-lover, Denny.  And in the mirrors they held up to each other in that small apartment in Soulard, their mornings together over coffee and marijuana in the weekends David had off from the pawn shop, they pictured what was growing in Bethany’s belly and they felt freedom in one world and guilt in another.  They knew it wasn’t about them anymore, but it was when they were high.  Bethany sought oneness.  David felt isolation.  And together sometimes these roles reversed.  In who was the man.  Who was the woman.  Sometime they found themselves doing the same thing in a given situation.  Sometimes they didn’t, but summer was ending.  The fall was coming, and then winter, when their child would be born.  They began to see those infinite worlds, the dark and light in all of them, their roles in comparisons, and they knew.  They knew they needed each other.  The promises and the negatives.  The freedom and the guilt.  It was in their eyes when they looked at each other, and together they shared laughter.  Alone they shared tears…

Advertisements