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How often do we have impression that someone’s stolen our dreams?

How often do we overestimate the toughness of our cuirass?

How often do we ask hoping for totally other answer?

How often do we stick pins under our nails? And another one and new one, each harder and thicker.

How often can we regret that we aren’t more despotic, that we didn’t insist more, that, instead,  we chose to be warm, sensitive and tutelar?

How often do we believe against our hope?

How often do we smile with tense muscle inside our chest?

How often do we feel gravel sliding off from our fingers clasped on the edge?

How often do we spread our madness on everyday toast and eat away newer and newer illusions?

How often do we rely on fortuity and we run blindly ahead along rail to nowhere?Will it come or not from the opposite a rushing freight train with a new load of  other people’s hearts?

Do we already hear its wheels’ patter approaching from the curve?

How often do we clench out teeth moving forward in blizzard, in darkness, frostbiting the fingertips of our desires?

How often do we regret like Joel Barrish that we can’t go to the clinic where they would erase from our grey cells the gloss of her hair, the smile of her warmth, the memory of her touch, the smell of her skin…?

The question is: do women like Clementine Kruczynski exist?

Even if the thickening reality dims if front of our eyes, even if we hear straight from HER lips that there is someone else, that it is not our voice that SHE is awaiting for…..that even then, we want to remember against hunches, facts and opinions.That we want to wait and wait for her, envying that guy her feelings…..envying him more than air in a sinking dinghy…..more than 1^st communion bike …more than solitary retiree envies the  neighbors’ Christmas dinner hubbub.

That we will dream every day, every moment, every breath ….that it will be us, SHE calls in while caught in the net of passion and desire…….

That we will dream  she surrenders and follows her hankering, forgets him while giving up to the pleasure, that she won’t be able to stop it ….that she will not want to stop it……