zero gravity

There were moments now,

usually just before she fell asleep.

Then Marla felt her life had become a very broad space.

No longer clustered with drama, but a wide hall with little parcels of busyness and excitement, sadly never really connected. Like dots on a painting, there were bright splashes on the broad canvas

But when you looked at it,
the colour only projected the wide gaps

in between
the endless white
the quiet space.

But they were only moments,
flashes of thought, feeling.

Marla allowed the melancholy to linger only for so long.
Then she found she was being ungrateful.
She had a good life, she could not complain about anything much.

 

Yet there was that.
Like a bubble of water in zero gravity.

It was so strange, so hard to explain.
It wouldn’t leave her alone.
It moved and shifted, always.

If it came too close
she felt it in all its liquid clarity,
soft and cohesive and not entirely pleasant.

If you were used to sterile, neutral spaces.
Well, sterile was maybe a bit harsh.
There was a certain uniformity in her life.

Like a Bauhaus mansion.
It irritated Marla’s more romantic senses.
Romantic in the literal sense.

Sublime wilderness
oceans, crags and thunderstorms
getting caught in the pelting rain.

Everything was structured, cubical, geometrical, mechanical, precise and accurate. As if life in its essence wasn’t organic.

If Marla mentioned such thoughts to Theresa
Theresa said Alicia was right,
Marla should go out more.

© 2014 threegoodwords