Prose

The Pursuit of Evasive Things

The Pursuit of Evasive Things

Sometimes you have to wonder how
we can want the things we want
in the unapologetic way that we do.

A violent stirring
in the depths of our being;
our insides reeling
with an insatiable restlessness.
A wanting that quickly rises
to the surface of our skins;
Piercing and determined to make itself known.

But it’s almost as if they heard us-
Feet heavy and eager
An audible lunge towards our prey

Their eyes widen;
Startled by our hunger,
they hastily take flight.

And again, leaving us wanting.

Even if they are evasive as ever.

But what is life’s purpose if not to chase after our passions?
What are the steps we take for if not to bring us closer

And farther

And closer

Until suddenly.

The dust settles.
The planets align.
The time is right.

And what was once evasive
Perpetually keeping their distance
Beyond arm’s reach
Is finally nestled calmly and perfectly
in the palm of our hands.

To Ricochet Between Remembering and Forgetting

When I remember you, I remember you in bits and pieces; like unfinished sentences.

Like a poorly crafted movie that knows no fluidity of transition, there was nothing elegantly seamless about it. In fact, you could see the clear edges, the abrupt punctuation. It is not like a gradient where the cobalt sea melts with the teal of the sky, but rather, a series of ricocheting between remembering and forgetting, remembering and forgetting.

Laughter. Drive-thru’s past midnight. I don’t remember enjoying a fudge sundae that much, and I don’t even fancy ice cream.

An argument – to agree to disagree on 80’s music and peanut butter.

Late night mundane talks. “I had a really crappy day.” “Tell me about it.”

Apologies. “I can’t go to bed mad at you.”

Long drives. That priceless look on you when you go passed the speed limit. 

Moments of pride. “Fine.”

A pause. The hint of a smile that grew from the corner of your mouth.  “I love you”, you exhaled.

I remember seconds of you, seconds of me, seconds of us. Fragments that I have never been able to play as a whole. 

You weren’t a blur, but rather, a recurring clarity.