12.14.2009

Claire in Detroit

Here:

They are standing and the clock the clock NO don’t start clock NO oh my god oh my god oh my god

There is no hunger there is no thirst there is no future past before or after there is just now now now and I see Stephen with the ball moving desperate back forth fake up side side and the clock hurts it wrenches my stomach and pummels my heart and their arms are too much too big too everywhere why can't he slip past why can't it just move and slip through and go and swish down so easy and right and suddenly Stephen doesn't have the ball he doesn't have it shit shit shit he doesn't have it it's in the air it's in Jason's hands breathe in breathe out Jason Jason Jason Jason can make threes he hit like five on Friday Jason Jason Jason fivefourthreetwo and he launches it I can't look I can't look I can't look because it means something will happen but I look because it means something will happen because we could win this game

No. No NO nononono NO no NO I don’t understand fucking shit I don’t understand I don’t it didn’t happen shit it fucking didn’t it’s not true it’s a joke it was practice we get to do it again and again and again until we get it right again it isn’t real it he’s not falling to the ground (JRich will not let this team lose very many games. His chest might not be big enough for his heart.) no no no no he’s not I can’t look I can't there’s not he’s not it’s not NO.

I’m angry I’m so so angry I’m so no I’m not I can’t feel anger I can’t feel anything I am frozen burning falling standing we have to I have to get out I can’t move I don’t want to move please can we do it over again all over again please I have to get the fuck OUT of here I want to go to sleep no I want to start over I want NO I want Final Four I want it to be four minutes ago thirty seconds ago whatever the hell just not right now just NOT RIGHT NOW AFTER no no no

“THANK YOU, TRUSTEES! THANK YOU, TRUSTEES!”

But NO it hurts this time to scream it literally hurts my heart my throat my eyes it hurts but I scream it because it’s true and I clap my tired buzzing numb palms because but it’s too fast it happened too fast it is it is it was it isn’t it wasn’t

“THANK YOU, WILDCATS! THANK YOU, WILDCATS!”

And we chant and they’re walking off the court because it’s over it’s over it’s over but I can’t I want to thank them but I want them to be happy and they’re not and I’m not I can’t I mean I just it’s not who can

“HAAAAAAND TOUCHING HAAAAAAAAAAAND—”

Oh my dearest lord god this is going to DAMMIT DAMMIT DAMMIT but I sing in my hoarse hoarse exhausted voice sing it again play it again

“REACHIN OOOOOOUT, TOUCHIN MEEEEEE, TOUCHING YOOOOOU!”

It’s loud always loud it’s the same but it’s not the same how can they play it down there how can they hold their instruments the same why the hell why am I singing it when I’m SO FUCKING SAD?

Can’t look at the court can’t look hear buzzing and listen to my own voice barely there I am so Jesus Christ tired and my phone is buzzing in my pocket and I’m so mad so so mad at my phone at my parents I know it’s them I don’t even look and I want to jump and punch and scream WHY WOULD YOU EVER CALL ME RIGHT NOW WHAT IS THERE TO SAY THERE IS NOTHING TO SAY I WILL NOT BE DEFEATED I WILL NOT EVEN IF I AM

“SWEET CAROLINE, OH OH OH! GOOD TIMES NEVER SEEMED SO GOOD! SO GOOD! SO GOOD! SO—”

My eyes are stinging popping with tears but they don’t spill they don’t they can’t I’m surrounded I want to burst into tears I want to so bad it hurts not to and we just stand and sing and the signs are down but hands are up and fists are raised but I just can’t I just want I want it all back I want it all forward but different not this forward not this and I don’t want to stop singing the song I don’t want to have a reason to stop singing the song ever because when we sing the song we’re all together and the boys are there and we all have life a place a goal a family and Jason and Thomas and Boris are there and when I stop singing the song they won’t be there the next time they won’t they won’t and

Comments?

No comments:

Post a Comment