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love and windmills
by dan gonzalez

You could have her now.

Here, under the desert sky, a thousand stars give you their blessing. As sure as the warm west wind spins the windmills with sublime and constant force.

Between the dunes, you lie next to her, never more awake, never more complete. You never wanted anything more.

Her aspect is grace itself. Vivacious and alive, she is a flower amidst the desolation of the desert. She is the life you so desperately need.

And she needs you. That is what brought you here.

You tried to rebuff her advances, pretended to be aloof. You tried not to be enamoured of her deep brown eyes and coquettish ways. You were never put off, you were pleased inside, but you didn't want it to be another one of those things. You can never bear the banality of morning-after conversations. And you didn't want to be another one of those guys either, you are never far enough away from yourself.

But you could not resist in the end. The brown eyes and brown skin drank you in and you were too ready to be consumed.

She didn't laugh, back on the hood of the jeep, when you were smoking grass and talking about Byron, and she didn't laugh when you told her you had no idea what you were going to do but you were thinking about music or maybe writing. She never laughed at you at all, and that is why you feel like you are in love with her. Above all things, you hate to be laughed at.

Her kisses were sweet agony. They made you want to tear down the walls of romance and just fuck her, but you have always detested mere fucking. You would rather make love, although you hate the delusion that distinguishes the two. It never really comes to pass.

You're not sure what she saw in you in any case. You were always quiet around her, maybe because of the dope, maybe because you didn't want to smudge her purity with your own dingy thoughts. You just don't know, but you accept that you don't and that you never really will.

You stifle the urge to slay nothingness with a crass self-proclamation. It is a vile beast, but nowhere near a dragon.

And even though your quietness stems from your own weakness, she sees it as a strength. You will always let this slide, you will never tell her the truth about your own soul.

You will never tell her many things.

You will never tell her that you were quiet only to preserve the sanctity of her untold beauty.
You will never tell her that your faults diminished, the longer you were with her.
You will never tell her that her mere presence comforted you in ways you can never properly describe.

There are many things you will not say, and very few that you will.

Instead, you are content to lie next to her beauty, underneath the windmills and the stars, and say nothing much at all.


Maybe it's you, maybe it's Dan. Things aren't quite the way they should be. And now it seems Dan's peace of mind has come up for the bidding, and those that he respects and trusts must all have been just kidding. Dan's little world has lost control, but still it keeps on spinnin'...

more about dan gonzalez


he stomped the terra
a quiet farewell to a savage giant
by dan gonzalez
topic: writing
published: 3.25.05

singin' dogs
by dan gonzalez
topic: writing
published: 3.19.04


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