Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Whitney and Bruce have never met. They were like two hummingbirds who have also never met. Yes, I am Whitney but who can tell me who Bruce is? Seriously. Who's Bruce? I think he is the man who may change my life some day. Maybe he's a comical stranger who will crack a witty joke at a mutual friends’ house. A joke I will never forget. So I continue to tell his joke to my children and their children until it becomes my own. But deep in my heart I will always know it was originally Bruce’s. Kind of like my heart. Maybe my heart was originally for Bruce but I missed it. Maybe Bruce lived in another time. Maybe Bruce grew up in the year 1899 in elite New York. He was raised by congressman and attended a lot of balls. Bruce is probably such a gentleman. But how can I ever know that. I missed him. Kind of like I miss him now. I miss you Bruce. I bet his eyes are green. The mysterious ones always are. I would have called him mine and I would be his. Bruce would’ve invited me in his rowboat and we would have drifted gently across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn’t. Our love would be mutual. We would be on the same page in every aspect. I mean literally. We would read books together under the shade of a willow tree and we would read at exactly the same pace. That way when ever a funny part came about or something romantic was said the information would come at the very same moment and our reactions would be sincere. Sometimes Bruce whispers in my ear. Similar to the way a butterfly would talk to you if it could speak English. But it’s just Bruce. Oh Bruce. We have been so cruelly separated. We are two very star crossed lovers racing across a grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling 85 mph, the other from Philly at 4:21 p.m at the speed of 65 mph. Where are you anyway?