{"componentChunkName":"component---src-templates-book-page-js","path":"/it-needs/page-29","result":{"data":{"markdownRemark":{"fields":{"slug":"/it-needs/"},"frontmatter":{"title":"it needs","pages":[{"content":null,"bgimage":null,"textimage":"/img/img_6490.jpg"},{"content":"The little boy pees \n\ninside his pants,\n\nthen travels \n\nto the end \n\nof his driveway\n\nand looks along the road\n\nin the direction \n\nthat his dad's car went\n\nthis morning.\n\nThe sun is bright and hot\n\nand the smell of pee\n\nmixes with the scent \n\nof scorched earth.\n\nThe little boy can feel \n\ntiny streams trickling \n\ndown his legs\n\nlike rows of ants.\n\nHe sees Roderick, the boy \n\nwho lives across the street,\n\nand he waves,\n\nbut Roderick doesn't see him.\n\nThe little boy goes back \n\ninside the house.\n\nHis mother stops him\n\nat the front door, \n\nlifts her nose,\n\nsniffs.\n\n\"Go straight upstairs, young man,\"\n\nshe tells him.\n\n\"Keep your shoes on,\" she adds \n\nwhen the boy leans over\n\nto untie his laces.\n\nShe scoots her little man\n\nup the stairs\n\nand into the main bathroom,\n\nwhere she makes him stand\n\nin the tub\n\nwhile she undresses him,\n\nstarting with his shoes and socks,\n\nand working her way up.\n\nShe pulls down the shower head\n\nand sprays the boy,\n\nand then his shoes and clothes,\n\nwhich are sitting in a heap\n\non the bottom of the tub.\n\nThen she soaps the boy's legs,\n\nhis feet, his bum,\n\nand his privates.\n\nShe rinses everything\n\nusing the shower head,\n\nthen has him step out of the tub\n\nonto the bathmat.\n\nShe rubs him dry\n\nwith a towel\n\nand tells him to run along\n\nto his bedroom\n\nand put on his pjs.\n\nHe argues that it's too early\n\nfor bedtime,\n\nand she hugs him close, \n\nsaying very quietly\n\ninto his ear\n\nthat he doesn't have to \n\ngo to bed yet,\n\nthat he should put on his pjs\n\nand come down for dinner.\n\n\"Daddy will be home soon,\"\n\nshe says.","bgimage":"/img/pee-boy-back.jpg","textimage":"/img/scan20240717-2.jpg"},{"content":"One morning, we got up. \n\nOur bags were already packed. \n\nWe drove down to Weeby’s place \n\nin Mississauga. \n\nThis was thirty-five years ago, \n\nand I can only assume \n\nthat we wanted to be closer \n\nto the airport \n\nwhen it came time \n\nfor us to check in \n\nfor our flight. \n\nWeeby is my brother-in-law. \n\nHis wife, Candy, \n\nhad just got a job in Mississauga \n\nworking as a lawyer \n\nfor the government, \n\nso they’d moved \n\ninto a little bungalow there. \n\nThat afternoon, Weeby fed us \n\nbarbeque, then drove \n\nus to Pearson, \n\nwhere we were scheduled to fly \n\nout on Worldways \n\nlater that afternoon.","bgimage":"/img/weeby.jpg","textimage":"/img/weeby-text.jpg"},{"content":"At times in my life,\n\nwhen I am regularly getting\n\na good night's sleep,\n\nI wake up mornings\n\nwith the irrational sense\n\nthat my time\n\non this earth\n\nis unlimited.","bgimage":"/img/at-times-in-my-life-pic.jpg","textimage":"/img/at-times-in-my-life-txt.jpg"},{"content":"The year was 1894, \n\nthe same year my second son, \n\nDeeve Deverton, was born. \n\nMy mother-in-law, \n\nBazzie BooBoo, \n\nwas moving out \n\nof the little room \n\nshe occupied \n\nin the basement \n\nof our house. \n\nThis was for the best, \n\nas far as I was concerned, \n\nalthough Bazzie \n\ncertainly didn’t \n\nseem to think so. \n\nShe claimed to like living \n\nin our house, \n\neven though her bedroom \n\nwas in the damp, dingy, \n\nunfinished basement. \n\nShe still had \n\nmost of her clothes \n\nin the boxes \n\nshe’d brought them in \n\nwhen she moved in \n\ntwo years before. \n\nWhen we asked her to move \n\nout to make room \n\nfor little Dee-Dee, \n\nshe got mad \n\nand stopped talking \n\nto us for a time.","bgimage":"/img/1894-pic.jpg","textimage":"/img/1894-txt.jpg"},{"content":"One night, \n\nwhen the heat was more \n\nthan I could take, \n\nand I couldn’t get to sleep, \n\nI grabbed my pillows \n\nand went downstairs \n\nto the living room \n\nto lie on the couch. \n\nEventually I drifted off \n\nand dreamed \n\nof a  monstrous entity \n\ntravelling across the sky – \n\nmonstrous not in appearance, \n\nfor it was so high up \n\nI could hardly distinguish \n\nits features –\n\nbut monstrous \n\nin its trajectory, \n\nin the way it moved \n\nsolidly across the sky, \n\nthe way it cut the air \n\nwithout flapping its wings, \n\nlike a frozen bird \n\nthat should have dropped \n\nlike a stone, \n\nbut instead \n\nsomehow wafted \n\non the wind. \n\nThis monster \n\nseemed able \n\nto disregard natural laws, \n\nnever wavering left, \n\nnor right, \n\nnor up, \n\nnor down, \n\ncompletely unbeholden \n\nto any physical constraints, \n\nsuch as gravity, \n\nor chaos. \n\nIt flew straight on, \n\nnever shifting \n\nthe slightest bit \n\noff course, \n\ncutting a path directly \n\nacross the heavens \n\ntoward its destination, \n\nwherever that \n\nmay have been – \n\nfor I never saw \n\nwhere it went. \n\nIt didn’t land in a tree, \n\nor settle to the earth. \n\nIt never moved \n\nany closer to \n\nor further from \n\nthe ground. \n\nUltimately, \n\nit just got smaller \n\nand smaller, \n\nuntil it was nothing \n\nbut a far-off \n\nlittle black dot, \n\nand then it disappeared \n\ncompletely, \n\nbeyond the farthest edge \n\nof my vision. \n\nI imagined it travelling \n\nto a place \n\nwhere other monstrous birds \n\nslept together, \n\non a great flat surface \n\nthat shimmered \n\nwith heat, \n\ntheir wings spread \n\nout stiffly, as though \n\nflying even in their dreams.","bgimage":"/img/one-night-when-the-heat-pic.jpg","textimage":"/img/one-night-when-the-heat-txt.jpg"},{"content":"I was so excited \n\nat the prospect \n\nof school coming \n\nto an end \n\nfor the summer \n\nthat I failed\n\nto take into account \n\nthe fact \n\nthat I would not see Muffy \n\nagain for two whole months, \n\nbut as soon as I got home \n\nand changed \n\ninto my pyjamas \n\nthat last day \n\nof school, \n\nit hit me.","bgimage":"/img/i-was-so-excited-pic.jpg","textimage":"/img/i-was-so-exited-txt.jpg"},{"content":"After an interminable round \n\nof cacophonous discussions, \n\narguments, \n\nnegotiations, \n\nconfrontations, \n\nscuffles, \n\nskirmishes, \n\netc., \n\netc., \n\nall the creatures \n\nand things \n\nof the world \n\nwent mute, \n\nand for the briefest \n\nof moments, \n\nI experienced \n\na kind of profound silence. \n\nThen the vibration \n\nof the world’s machinery \n\nredoubled, impelling me \n\nto acknowledge the fact \n\nthat the silence \n\nhad been inside me \n\nall along. \n\nIt had never been \n\nin the world. \n\nAnd when the silence ended, \n\nit was not the end \n\nof silence I was perceiving, \n\nbut the end of something \n\nin me \n\nthat had heretofore \n\nagreed to the silence, \n\nthen subsequently failed \n\nto agree to it, \n\nthen inevitably, again, \n\nagreed to it. \n\nOver and over again, \n\nthis silence arose, \n\nintermittently \n\nblotting out the world, \n\nand then giving in \n\nto it, so that \n\nit was as though \n\nI were perceiving the universe \n\nthrough the ears of an idiot \n\nwith a childlike delight \n\nin turning the volume up \n\nand down.","bgimage":"/img/after-an-interminable-round-pic.jpg","textimage":"/img/after-an-interminable-round-txt.jpg"},{"content":"I never gave up trying. \n\nI brought her presents, \n\nthings that I’d made. \n\nShe looked at these things \n\nlike she didn’t understand, \n\nthen she looked at me \n\nas though she thought \n\nI was crazy – \n\nand that spark \n\nin her eye, \n\nwhen she looked at me \n\nlike that… \n\nwell I just had \n\nto close my eyes \n\nwhen she looked \n\nat me that way. \n\nI wanted to hold it in, \n\nthat spark. \n\nI wanted to keep it \n\ninside me like a bullet \n\nlodged so close \n\nto a vital organ \n\nthat it can never be removed. \n\nI didn’t want it \n\nto get away from me. \n\nIn itself, this spark \n\nof surprise in her eyes, \n\nthis instant of derision, \n\nor incomprehension, \n\nor whatever it was, \n\nwas not enough. \n\nNever enough to warm me, \n\nor to light my way. \n\nBut it was enough \n\nto threaten hope.","bgimage":"/img/i-never-gave-up-trying-pic.jpg","textimage":"/img/i-never-gave-up-trying-txt.jpg"},{"content":"It’s not my fault \n\nthat this all winds up \n\nbeing fiction. \n\nI don’t start out \n\ndoing it as fiction. \n\nIt just comes out \n\nthis way, \n\nlike my tongue \n\nhas detached itself \n\nand fallen \n\nout of my mouth, \n\nfallen over the giant waterfall \n\nwhere the planet ends, \n\ninto an unspeakable space, \n\na space so round \n\nand open and empty \n\nthat the flat world \n\ncannot encompass it. \n\nAnd it is in the unspeakableness \n\nof this space, \n\nbetween the waterfall \n\nand my tongue, \n\nwhere fiction \n\nseems to flourish, \n\nlike weeds \n\nthat grow \n\nso fast \n\nI can’t keep up. \n\nIt’s spring, \n\nand I’m outside \n\nin my baseball cap \n\nand shorts, \n\nand the weeds \n\nare popping out \n\nof the ground \n\naround me \n\nlike tiny people \n\nrushing to escape \n\nthe grave. \n\nAnd I rush around \n\ntrying to stop them. \n\nBut why?","bgimage":"/img/it-s-not-my-fault-pic.jpg","textimage":"/img/it-s-not-my-fault-txt.jpg"},{"content":"Words flow \n\nout through the tiny holes \n\nin the window screen \n\nand fall through the cracks \n\nbetween the wooden planks \n\nthat make up the floor \n\nof the balcony, \n\nlike rain flooding \n\nover the eaves \n\nand dropping \n\ndirectly onto the boy \n\nwhere he is sitting \n\nin his gravity chair \n\non the back patio. \n\nThe girl is up \n\nat the kitchen table, \n\nfacetiming with her brother. \n\nHer words cover the boy, \n\ngetting in his hair \n\nand sticking to his body. \n\nNow and then a word \n\nor two \n\nreaches his ears. \n\nThe boy is watching \n\nthree crows float \n\ndown the wind \n\nhigh up in the sky. \n\nThe birds disappear \n\nbehind tall trees \n\nthat rise out of the ravine \n\nbehind the townhouse \n\nwhere the boy \n\nand the girl live. \n\nFor a moment, \n\nthe girl falls silent \n\nand the boy hears nothing. \n\nThen a child \n\nin a neighbouring townhouse \n\nscreams. \n\nThe child wants something \n\nit cannot have, \n\nsomething it will never have, \n\nbecause it doesn’t know \n\nexactly what it wants, \n\nor more accurately: \n\nwhat it wants \n\nisn’t going to give it \n\nwhat it thinks it will get \n\nfrom having what it thinks \n\nit wants. \n\nMany years from now, \n\nthis child \n\nwill be on the precipice \n\nof death, \n\nand it will realize \n\nthat this feeling \n\nit keeps having \n\nis pure want, \n\nthat there is no object \n\nattached to this want. \n\nThere never was.","bgimage":"/img/words-flow-pic.jpg","textimage":"/img/words-flow-txt.jpg"},{"content":"When we went to England, \n\nit seemed like the best part\n\nof the trip \n\nwas coming home. \n\nJust doing the things \n\nwe always did \n\nevery day \n\nat home – \n\nlaundry, dishes, vacuuming – \n\nsuddenly seemed special. \n\nNo matter how boring \n\nthese everyday things were \n\nto us \n\nunder normal circumstances, \n\nthey seemed precious \n\nfor a little while \n\nafter we got back home. \n\nBut then, after a time –  \n\nand this was thirty years ago, \n\nso I can’t remember now \n\nif it was after a month, \n\nor a few days, \n\nor maybe even \n\njust a matter of minutes – \n\nwe got sick \n\nof the things \n\nwe did every day \n\nand we started to plan \n\nour next trip.","bgimage":"/img/when-we-went-to-england-pic.jpg","textimage":"/img/when-we-went-to-england-txt.jpg"},{"content":"The girl had a book \n\nin her lap, \n\nbut it was closed \n\nand she was staring \n\nout the window. \n\nAcross the room \n\nfrom where she sat, \n\nbeneath the window sill, \n\nthe cat lounged \n\non the rug \n\ncleaning one of its back paws.\n\nIt dragged its tongue \n\nup its leg quickly, \n\nrepeatedly, \n\nsunlight catching its whiskers \n\nat intervals, \n\nuntil it gradually slowed down, \n\nand then stopped \n\naltogether, \n\nwith its back paw \n\nsticking straight up, \n\nits tongue hanging out, \n\nand its eyes vacant, \n\nas if it had lost \n\nits train of thought \n\nand was now trying to recollect \n\nwhat it had just been doing.","bgimage":"/img/the-girl-had-a-book-pic.jpg","textimage":"/img/the-girl-had-a-book-txt.jpg"},{"content":"I gave into her eyes.\n\nThere was nothing \n\nI could do about it.\n\nThe steam of morning\n\ncoated the blue air\n\nabove a hole \n\nin the street\n\nwhere water sat.\n\nUncoated again \n\nabove the steam,\n\nthe blue air rose \n\nat a giddy speed,\n\nescaping us.\n\nAbandoning us.\n\nThe girl’s eyes \n\nturned away,\n\nreleasing me\n\nand I fell back\n\ninto my thoughts\n\nabout what to buy \n\nfor dinner\n\nand how to go \n\nabout getting \n\nthe dishwasher repaired.","bgimage":"/img/i-gave-into-her-eyes-pic.jpg","textimage":"/img/i-gave-into-her-eyes-txt.jpg"},{"content":"I said, \n\nas quietly as I could: \n\n“Should we spread \n\nsome kind of topping \n\non that?” \n\nIt was early morning \n\nand we’d just got out of bed. \n\nKitty was wearing \n\nher starry night pj top \n\nand a pair of pink poplin shorts. \n\nI looked at the piece of toast \n\nthat was sitting on a plate \n\non the table. \n\nIt looked abandoned \n\nand forlorn \n\nlying there \n\nwith nothing on it. \n\nBy the time I looked \n\nup from the toast, \n\nKitty was gone. \n\n*Where does she disappear to*? \n\nI wondered. \n\nI sat down \n\nin one of the two chairs \n\nwe kept at the kitchen table. \n\nI looked at the other chair, \n\nempty now that Kitty was gone. \n\nDon’t get me wrong. \n\nI knew she was still \n\nin the house somewhere. \n\nI even thought I could hear \n\nher upstairs \n\nmoving around \n\nif I listened \n\nvery hard. \n\nThings happened \n\nreally fast \n\nafter that. \n\nI got up \n\nand went to stand by \n\nthe window, \n\nstaying silent, \n\nbut it was as though \n\nI was watching \n\nsome meteor shower \n\nspread itself \n\nacross the sky \n\nlike a curtain \n\ndraping the universe \n\nwhere it stretched away \n\nto infinity, \n\njust beyond the edge \n\nof the earth. \n\nAnd the earth, \n\nbeing finite, \n\nthe way she has always \n\nbeen – bitch that she is – \n\nmade the infinite nature \n\nof the universe \n\nseem that much more infinite. \n\nIt was infinite \n\nbeyond the sort of infinity \n\nyou could imagine, \n\nwhich was really \n\njust something \n\nlike the space \n\nyou could see \n\nif you looked up \n\nat the sky \n\nand tried to imagine \n\nthat it never ended, \n\nwhich you couldn’t. \n\nAnd there I was, \n\na meteor shower \n\nhurtling across the cosmos, \n\nbut I was also, \n\nat the same time,\n\nthe person standing motionless \n\nat the window.","bgimage":"/img/mary-ellen-3-months.jpg","textimage":"/img/i-said-as-quietly-as-i-could-txt.jpg"},{"content":"The girl was perched \n\non a log \n\nwith her bum \n\nextended out behind her. \n\nShe had her pants pulled down \n\nto her knees. \n\nShe bent her head forward \n\nto watch the pee \n\ncoming out \n\nfrom between her legs. \n\nIt hit the forest floor, \n\npocking the dirt \n\nand splashing up a little \n\nonto her bum. \n\nIt tickled \n\nin a way that wasn’t unpleasant. \n\nShe liked the smell, \n\na mixture of pee \n\nand sun-warmed moss, \n\nalthough the very idea \n\nthat she might like it \n\nmade her nervous. \n\nIt made her feel \n\na kind of exhilaration \n\ninside her nostrils \n\nthat was almost fear. \n\nAs the last of the pee \n\ndribbled out, \n\nshe looked up at the sky. \n\nPuffy white clouds drifted \n\nacross the pale blue heavens. \n\nA small bird twittered \n\nin the branches of a nearby tree. \n\nIt was near perfect, \n\nthis moment \n\nshe found herself in, \n\nand she wanted it to last. \n\n“I could die happy now,” \n\nshe thought. \n\nWhen she stood \n\nand pulled up her pants, \n\nshe could feel the fabric \n\nsliding over the skin on her legs, \n\nlike stepping naked into the lake. \n\nShe walked down to the lake now. \n\nIt was early, \n\nand a wispy mist hovered \n\nclose over the water. \n\nThe boy was still asleep \n\nin the tent, \n\nback at the campsite. \n\nShe thought about going \n\ninto the lake, \n\nor walking along the shore, \n\nbut she didn’t do either. \n\nShe stayed still \n\nand watched the light breeze \n\nripple the water in places. \n\nAgain, she felt that exhilaration, \n\nonly this time \n\nit was deep inside her chest.","bgimage":"/img/the-girl-was-perched-on-a-log-pic.jpg","textimage":"/img/the-girl-was-perched-on-a-log-txt.jpg"},{"content":"It was 4:00 a.m. \n\nI could hear the trees breathing \n\noutside the kitchen window. \n\nI spread mayonnaise on my toast \n\nand sliced up a tomato. \n\nI couldn’t tell how much pepper\n\nI was putting on \n\nbecause I wasn’t wearing my glasses. \n\nI remembered Dad \n\ntalking about tomatoes. \n\nThis was the time of year \n\nDad always talked about tomatoes. \n\nI shredded some cheese \n\nand sprinkled it \n\non top of the tomatoes, \n\nthen I slid everything \n\ninto the toaster oven  \n\nand set it to broil. \n\nIt isn’t that I was happy \n\nabout the car being stolen, \n\nI decided, \n\njust that along with some anxiety \n\nabout the whole affair, \n\nI felt a measure of relief. \n\nMy wife didn’t, though. \n\nShe seemed really mad. \n\nI wanted to tell her to calm down. \n\n“Don’t get so angry,” I wanted to say. \n\nBut I was too scared. \n\nWhat had happened was, \n\nI had parked the car \n\nin a mall parking lot, \n\na multi-level affair \n\nover in San Fergusto, \n\na little suburb \n\nnot far from where we live, \n\nand then I walked \n\nout into an abandoned lot \n\nfull of wildflowers \n\nand I fell asleep \n\nby a little drainage ditch \n\nthat I pretended was a big river \n\nplied by a paddlewheeler \n\nfeaturing nightly entertainment. \n\nMe and the other girls \n\non the paddlewheeler \n\nfeel honoured to have been chosen \n\nto be in the show – \n\nall of us, that is, except Tracy, \n\nwho is the shortest of us. \n\nHer name isn’t really Tracy, \n\nbut that’s what the boys call her, \n\nso that’s what we call her, too. \n\nMonica (also not her real name) \n\ncan tip her head back \n\nfurther than any of us \n\nwithout falling over. \n\nFor some reason, \n\nthe boys really like this, \n\nand Monica’s job on the boat \n\nis assured. \n\nAfter the show, \n\nthe boat goes ashore \n\nand we girls head down the gangplank. \n\nCrystal and I, \n\nwe sway in time like wind. \n\nLooking inside Crystal as she speaks, \n\nstanding inside her sentences, \n\nfeeling her inserting her being \n\ninto sentences \n\nthat she then inserts into me, \n\nI feel the way I might feel \n\nsticking my tongue into a hole \n\nwhere a sore tooth has been \n\nbut now is gone. \n\nIt hurts.","bgimage":"/img/a-sudden-gust-of-wind-by-hokusai.jpg","textimage":"/img/it-was-4-am-txt.jpg"},{"content":"I like that today is August 7.\n\nThe month seems to be going \n\nalong nicely.\n\nSomething in the way the day \n\nslips by.\n\nThe morning disappears.\n\nNothing happens.","bgimage":"/img/i-like-that-today-is-aug-7-pic.jpg","textimage":"/img/i-like-that-today-is-aug-7-txt.jpg"},{"content":"I was glad\n\nto be\n\nwith my mother\n\nwhen she died,\n\nin a way\n\nthat I am\n\na little \n\nashamed to admit. \n\nIn the moment \n\nthat this thought \n\ncrosses \n\nmy mind, \n\nI feel at one \n\nwith the world. \n\nGet out \n\nof our driveway! \n\nThis new thought \n\ninterrupts \n\nmy peaceful \n\ncontemplation \n\nabout \n\nmy dead mother. \n\nAnd then \n\nI feel bad. \n\nThe guy \n\nin the driveway \n\nis in a van \n\nwith duct tape \n\non the wheel \n\nwells. \n\nHe gets out \n\nof the van \n\nand goes around \n\nto open the back \n\ndoors. I’m watching \n\nall this through \n\nthe kitchen \n\nwindow, in the relative \n\nsafety of my little \n\nsuburban home. \n\nThe guy’s head \n\ndisappears into \n\nthe van and he \n\nrummages around \n\nin there for a while, \n\nthen emerges \n\nholding a small \n\ncardboard box, \n\nwhich he carries \n\ncarefully across \n\nthe little lawn \n\nthat lies between \n\nour driveway \n\nand that of the \n\nnext-door neighbour. \n\nHe puts the box \n\non the neighbour’s \n\nporch, takes a picture \n\nof it with his phone, \n\nthen walks back \n\nacross the grass \n\nand gets into \n\nhis van. He backs \n\nout and goes \n\nthe wrong way \n\nalong our little \n\none-way lane, \n\nand this renews \n\nmy outrage. \n\nIn the empty anger \n\nof the moment after \n\nhe’s turned out of our \n\nlane and disappeared \n\nfrom my sight, I try \n\nto resurrect \n\nthe feelings \n\nI had recalling \n\nmy mother’s death, \n\nbut they are something \n\nelse altogether now, \n\nsomething I can’t \n\nname at all.","bgimage":"/img/i-was-glad-pic.jpg","textimage":"/img/i-was-glad-txt.jpg"},{"content":"I was sitting in the living room.\n\nIt was morning.\n\nThe lights were off.\n\nThe curtains were closed.\n\nIt was almost time\n\nto get moving.\n\nI could hear the kids\n\nacross the street\n\nrunning around screaming\n\non their front lawn.\n\nI took a sip of coffee.\n\nThe light sneaking in\n\nthrough the crack\n\nin the curtains\n\nwas a growing brighter.\n\nI took another sip of coffee.\n\nThe water came on upstairs.\n\nKitty was having a shower.","bgimage":"/img/i-was-sitting-in-the-living-room-pic.jpg","textimage":"/img/i-was-sitting-in-the-living-room-txt.jpg"},{"content":"mom’s foot waggles\n\nat the end of mom’s leg\n\nwhich disappears into mom’s dress\n\n\n\nfurther up mom’s face \n\nmoves floating words \n\nmy way       \n\n     “miracle”\n\n             “dance” \n\n\n\n          “when I dance \n\n      everything stops\n\nand I don’t hurt\n\n\n\n“I can move \n\n      the way I did \n\n         when I was twenty” \n\n\n\nI don’t speak\n\nI don’t think mom knows \n\nI am even there \n\n\n\nthe Japanese man \n\nin the yard next door \n\nspeaks into his phone \n\nwords I don’t understand \n\nhis voice a wind \n\ntouched by something \n\nonly wind\n\ncan touch \n\nthe release of something \n\ntrapped \n\nin wind","bgimage":"/img/mom-s-foot-waggles-pic.gif","textimage":"/img/mom-s-foot-waggles-txt-1.jpg"},{"content":"“something awaits us\n\nin borderless time\n\n\n\n“that single moment \n\nwhen wind finds its place in me\n\nand I in turn\n\nlose all sense\n\nof direction \n\nand stay here \n\nin this place \n\na simple receptacle \n\nfor things only wind \n\ncan touch” \n\n\n\nand who is to say \n\nif my interpretation is less correct \n\nthan that demanded \n\nby the words themselves","bgimage":"/img/mom-s-foot-waggles-pic.gif","textimage":"/img/mom-s-foot-waggles-txt-2.jpg"},{"content":"The pale man \n\non the bench \n\nwas reading. \n\nIt was dark, \n\nbut he was under \n\na streetlight, \n\nwearing a round cap, \n\nholding his book \n\nin his lap. \n\nHe looked up. \n\nHe saw me, \n\nlaughed, \n\nshook his head, \n\npointed his eyes \n\ndown at his book, \n\nthen back up at me, \n\nlike he thought \n\nI could share \n\nin the happiness \n\nhe was feeling \n\nabout whatever \n\nit was he was reading \n\nin his book. \n\n\n\nHe must have read \n\nsomething very funny, \n\nI thought. \n\n\n\nIt doesn’t really help \n\nto tell you any of this, \n\nof course. \n\nNothing really helps. \n\nThere’s nothing \n\nto be done. \n\nWhat I need \n\nis something \n\nthat will allow me \n\nto go back, \n\ntalk to these people \n\nwho are sitting \n\nunder streetlights reading. \n\n\n\nI must be hungry, \n\nI thought \n\nafter watching the man \n\nfor a while. \n\nNot hungry to be fed, \n\nI understood. \n\nBut there was something \n\ninside me \n\nthat needed explaining.","bgimage":"/img/the-pale-man-pic.jpg","textimage":"/img/the-pale-man-txt.jpg"},{"content":"I wanted to find … \n\nlike … my cup. \n\nI know that sounds wrong \n\n… or … like … \n\nit’s not enough. \n\nI must have wanted \n\nto find something more \n\nthan just my cup, \n\nright? \n\nYou would think. \n\nBut no … \n\nthis is about my cup … \n\nthis is definitely about wanting \n\nto find my cup … \n\nand then not finding it, \n\nand because of that, \n\nwanting to find it even more. \n\nBut don’t I have more \n\nthan one cup? \n\nWouldn’t you think \n\nI would have more \n\nthan one cup? \n\nYou’d have to believe \n\nI’d have more \n\nthan one cup, \n\nwouldn’t you? \n\nEverybody has more \n\nthan one cup, \n\nright? \n\nAnd even if I did \n\nhave only one cup, \n\ncouldn’t I go out \n\nand buy another cup … \n\nI mean … like … \n\nif it turned out \n\nthat I really did \n\nhave only one cup, \n\nand I couldn’t find \n\nmy one cup, \n\ncouldn’t I go out \n\nand buy another cup? \n\nDidn’t I have enough \n\nmoney to buy \n\nanother cup? \n\nCouldn’t I just go out \n\nand buy a lot of cups? \n\nI mean … like … \n\neven if I didn’t have \n\na lot of money, \n\nI could go out … like … \n\nto the dollar store, \n\nand I could get \n\na bunch of cups \n\nfor … like … cheap … yes? \n\nSo … yes … \n\nI admit that I could have \n\ngot another cup \n\nif I needed to. \n\nBut I didn’t really need \n\nanother cup … \n\nI didn’t have to go \n\nto the dollar store. \n\nI already had lots of cups. \n\nMy cup cupboard is full \n\nof cups. \n\nIt’s so full of cups \n\nthat if I do all the dishes \n\nat once, \n\nI can’t get all of the cups \n\ninto the cup cupboard. \n\nI have to put them \n\nin other cupboards … \n\nand I don’t like doing that.","bgimage":"/img/favourite-cup-1-pic.jpg","textimage":"/img/favourite-cup-1-txt.jpg"},{"content":"So anway … \n\nof course, \n\nI have many cups. \n\nWho doesn’t? \n\nBut this one cup … \n\nthe cup I was looking for … \n\nthat cup is the cup \n\nI like best. \n\nI mean … okay … like … \n\nfor sure, everybody gets that … \n\nright? I mean … like … \n\neverybody gets \n\nwhat it’s like \n\nto like \n\na certain cup … \n\nor a certain spoon … \n\nor, you know … \n\na certain something … \n\nsomething you’ve got \n\nlots of … but … \n\nyou know … \n\nyou want that one … \n\nyour favourite … \n\nright? \n\nYou get \n\nwhat I’m getting at, \n\ndon’t you? \n\nI know you do … \n\nbut … like … \n\nwhat you’re asking yourself \n\nis … like … why \n\nis this guy \n\ntelling me this? \n\nI mean … like … okay … \n\nit’s maybe okay \n\nto tell someone \n\nabout something like this … \n\nbut … like … why \n\nis he writing about it … \n\nand why am I reading this? \n\nBut you are \n\nstill reading it … right? \n\nI mean … okay … \n\nmaybe you’re not \n\nstill reading it … \n\nbut if you’re not \n\nstill reading it … \n\nthen how \n\nare you reading this,\n\nright? \n\nWhat I mean … \n\nwhat I’m trying \n\nto say here is that … \n\nlike … at this point \n\nit isn’t a question \n\nof whether or not \n\nyou are still reading this … \n\nit’s more … like … you know … \n\nwhy are you still reading this? \n\nThat’s got to be \n\nthe question, right? \n\nI mean … like … \n\nright?","bgimage":"/img/favourite-cup-2-pic.jpg","textimage":"/img/favourite-cup-2-txt.jpg"},{"content":"He bunched up \n\nhis shoulders \n\nto signal his perplexity. \n\n\n\nThe eyebrow \n\non the west side \n\nof his face, \n\nthe one now bathed \n\nin sunlight, \n\nwent from near vertical \n\nto practically parabolic. \n\n\n\nWhen he relaxed it again, \n\nI saw that, when at rest, \n\nit was permanently arched, \n\nwhile the other eyebrow, \n\nthe less animated one, \n\nwas rectangular, \n\nand almost perfectly vertical, \n\nlike a hairy brick \n\nfloating above his eye.","bgimage":"/img/he-bunched-up-pic.jpg","textimage":"/img/he-bunched-up-txt.jpg"},{"content":"“What was it like \n\nup there \n\nthis summer?” \n\nSusan wanted \n\nto know. \n\n“Same as last summer,” \n\nsaid Derek. \n\n“Really?” said Susan. \n\n“I thought \n\nit usually changes \n\nevery year.” \n\n“It might have been \n\na little different,” \n\nsaid Derek, \n\n“but it looked \n\npretty much \n\nthe same \n\nto me.” \n\n“Who was the kid you \n\nwere telling me about?” \n\nasked Susan. \n\n“I don’t know,” \n\nsaid Derek, \n\n“I’ve never seen him \n\nbefore. He just plunked \n\ndown on the beach \n\nbeside me \n\none day, \n\nand then I couldn’t \n\nget rid of him.” \n\nHe looked thoughtful. \n\n“Not that I really wanted \n\nto get rid of him,” \n\nhe added. \n\nThey were silent \n\nfor a time, \n\nand that’s when everything \n\nhappened around them. \n\nCats left their yards \n\nand descended \n\ninto river valleys. \n\nPeople made breakfast. \n\nBeds got made. \n\nThen Derek said, \n\n“I was on the bus today…” \n\nHe hesitated, \n\nlooking as if trying \n\nto decide \n\nwhether or not \n\nthis was a story \n\nhe should be telling \n\nSusan. \n\n“Yes?” she asked. \n\n“Well,” said Derek, \n\n“anyway, \n\nthis lady got on the bus \n\nat Bantry-Scott.” \n\nHe looked like he was \n\nsearching for words. \n\n“She was…big,” he said, \n\nfinally. He drank \n\nsome coffee \n\nto bolster himself \n\nand to put a little time \n\nand distance \n\nbetween him \n\nand Susan, \n\nas though hoping \n\nto make it safe \n\nto say things \n\nhe knew \n\nmight make her laugh, \n\nor might \n\njust as easily \n\ndisgust her. \n\nHow could he say this \n\nright? Even \n\nas he worked \n\nup a little gag \n\nin his head, \n\nhe could feel \n\nthe energy \n\nin the air \n\nbetween them \n\ndissipating. \n\nHe got up \n\nfrom the table, \n\ngot a bowl \n\nfrom the cupboard, \n\nand poured \n\nin some Count Chocula. \n\nHe added milk. \n\nA pinch of brown \n\nsugar. \n\nHe went \n\nto the coffee maker \n\nand topped up his cup. \n\nHe got cream \n\nfrom the fridge, \n\npoured some \n\ninto his coffee, \n\nthen \n\nas a sort of afterthought, \n\nhe added a splash \n\nof cream \n\nto his cereal. \n\nHe watched the cream \n\nswirl into the milk. \n\nAll the while, \n\nSusan was staring \n\nat him \n\nwith growing incredulity. \n\nShe laughed \n\na little, \n\nand Derek felt hopeful \n\nthat he might \n\nperhaps have \n\nestablished his moment. \n\nHe saw something \n\nin Susan’s eyes, \n\nin the way she held \n\nher lips. \n\n“Is that it \n\nfor your story?” \n\nshe asked. \n\n“Oh, yeah, \n\nthe story,” \n\nsaid Derek. \n\nHe shovelled \n\nsome cereal \n\ninto his mouth, \n\nlooking down \n\nat the bowl, \n\nthinking, \n\nas he chewed \n\nhow much \n\nit looked \n\nlike excrement.","bgimage":"/img/what-was-it-like-pic.jpg","textimage":"/img/what-was-it-like-txt.jpg"},{"content":"Things were happening\n\nin the sky\n\nabove the girl.\n\n\n\nEven though \n\nshe could not see\n\nwhat was happening, \n\nshe knew \n\nwith great certainty\n\nthat something \n\nwas going on.","bgimage":"/img/things-were-happening-pic.jpg","textimage":"/img/things-were-happening-txt-1.jpg"},{"content":"She saw the shadows \n\nof birds fluttering\n\ntheir wings \n\nin sunlight. \n\n\n\nRed birds, \n\nshe decided.","bgimage":"/img/things-were-happening-pic.jpg","textimage":"/img/things-were-happening-txt-2.jpg"},{"content":"It was like a Friday,\n\nbut it wasn't Friday.\n\n\n\nIt was another day.\n\nA Tuesday.\n\n\n\nSo, I mean, like,\n\nwhat the heck!?","bgimage":"/img/it-was-like-a-friday-pic.jpg","textimage":"/img/it-was-like-a-friday-txt.jpg"},{"content":"The American \n\nholidays came \n\nlike panthers \n\nrippling \n\nthrough grass, \n\nlike small cars \n\npulled by wild horses. \n\n\n\nThe African holidays \n\narrived a week later, \n\nradical memories \n\nslipping through \n\nsmall cracks \n\nof love \n\nthat the boy \n\nand the girl felt \n\nwhen they saw \n\nthe false sun \n\ncome up the far side \n\nof the universe, \n\npatently false \n\nin the face \n\nof the place \n\nwhere the real sun \n\nwent down \n\nevery night. \n\n\n\nThe girl looked \n\nat the boy \n\naskance. \n\nThere were empty \n\npools of blue \n\nbetween them \n\nwith dead freesia \n\nat the bottom. \n\n\n\nWhen the boy \n\nwas gone, \n\nthe girl stood \n\nby the window. \n\n\n\n\"Slide in here,\" \n\nshe whispered, \n\nfeeling the wind \n\nof her words \n\ncross her lips \n\nlike an illicit kiss.","bgimage":"/img/american-holidays-pic.jpg","textimage":"/img/american-holidays-txt.jpg"},{"content":"I engage \n\nin a radically different \n\nconcept of friendship \n\nfrom yours, \n\na concept \n\nthat sits \n\nat the endmost tip \n\nof a shimmering green \n\nleaf, high \n\non a tall tree, \n\nin the wind, \n\nlike a speck\n\n of dust \n\nclinging gently, \n\nmomentarily, \n\nbefore being \n\nswept away \n\nwith the general \n\nstorm of dust \n\nthat flees past \n\nus every day.","bgimage":"/img/img_7688.jpg","textimage":"/img/img_7687.jpg"}]}}},"pageContext":{"slug":"/it-needs/","index":28}},"staticQueryHashes":["63159454"]}