I am about to head to bed, again, later than I'd hoped. Outside, I hear choppers and sirens. It could be a war zone out there. The sky is this bright lilac gray. LA's electric smog-infused sky, so different from the breathtaking night-scapes of Boracay or Bellingham, where one sees stars against cosmic blackness. Here, the stars are on the side-walk, where tourist traipse over them. Earth bound, they need polishing, the City of Angels defeating logic.
So it makes sense that we meet here, the axis for contradiction in terms, he and I, redefined or rather finally defined as friends. Its a wonder that a love could be so great that it ends before beginning, that it could bypass the gravitational pull of two so in love it is like the force of celestial beings wanting nothing more than to orbit each other.
I am trying to make sense of it. But am I trying to reconcile the irreconcilable? Is love really so unwieldy? Or do we make a mockery of it by trying to define it at all? (Its no wonder the job has fallen into the hands of poets. Words alone are insufficient.)
I said to him today, "love knows no bounds." Its a cliche, but I believe it. Still, my limited head continues to be baffled by love's infinite vastness.