Losing Things
by S.H. Gall
I don't mean to be all shame-shaming, but I think my boyfriend's extremely potent knack for losing things is infecting me. He has a die-hard ritual of never knowing where he's left his eyeglasses, keys, and cell phone. He cannot leave the house without inquiring as to the location of these things. When he does leave, he creaks down the stairs, exclaiming My knees! Ow, my knees. Good as he is at losing things, he is even better at really taking ownership of his knees.
In my case, I lose eyeglasses, lighters, money. I infuriate myself with this gift. But ultimately, I become stronger with every thing I lose, every body part I assault with great fury.
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Author's Note
Edited out first paragraph at suggestion from Andrew at Pindeldyboz.
Nice; I like the picking out of a few peccadilloes become the image for all that slowly goes wrong in relationships.
Thanks Susan!
this is really wild, Seth. I love what is does with this sly building impact of loss, thing by thing, and the speaker trailing each loss.
I particularly love the observation about the boyfriend taking ownership of his knees! this is funny as well as sad. Great work.
Great observations as usual, Meg. You really get my work... particularly here the "taking ownership" part.
For me there's an echo of Bishop's great "One Art" here, and I like that about this piece. Yours is a remarkable work. "Mostly I then find these things, but not before I've taken brass knuckles to my heart, my gut, my face. I infuriate myself with this gift." I wish I'd written this piece. Outstanding.
Wow Sam, I'm honored!