The Ono Book
And we found each other warm in a sanctuary not so familiar. We were just there standing right in front of the shelf smearing our faces with smiles as we read through the words they wrote. Amazing how two people fell in love with themselves the way they did with the world, the way they did with each other. How selfish, how uniting. Very much like us. And it was not long that I heard her say, “He’s such a genius.” And it made me think of her realigning her thoughts for the first time to those of mine. Silently, I answered, “Someday I want to be like him. Perhaps not for the world, but for you.” She took out a pen I just bought her, wrote the lines he once wrote, and it was like seeing a miracle. It was real. Right there, the most obstinate girl I’ve ever known was mooning over the very same words that I wished I could have written. “He’s such a genius,” I whispered. She continued writing. After finishing taking down the words, I asked her to go. It was already getting late. I love her so much that I can’t afford her to miss the train. We held hands and separately wished—in silence, in secret—to be the happy balloons he wrote about. “He’s such a genius, and we’ll soon be flying, love.”
(December 6, 2006)
