Wednesday, August 4, 2010

The Tyranny of Distance

"Send me cupcakes and your first born!" he jibes in a Rumplestiltskin voice. Of course he's joking but the favour granted demands payment and this is his price.

Her firstborn is lovely, radiant and clearly doesn't  know or care. She wears her beauty carelessly as a tossed cardigan with never a sideways glance at her reflection.  She avoids spurious attention and mocks the cameras that try to capture her visage by pulling Facebook faces to deflect those behind the viewfinder who would capture her image and retain it unsolicited. Few see her as she really is. Hazel eyes, lively but with longing.  Lustrous long hair as dark as the coffee he sips. A  face marked both by contemplation and laughter, flawless skin, slim with well-placed curves. She's at  home in her 'lived in' look.  She is sensible and silly. Shy yet outgoing. Outspoken and demure. She is constant yet restless, her wonderlust keeps her head in the clouds while feet remain reluctantly on the ground. Her heart bleeds on her sleeve yet few seem to notice.

He is a soldier poet. The macho male with a sensitive side. He wears his bruises like a watermark, pale beneath the surface barely visible against the light but he is damaged, just slightly and it gives him an amazing edge.  He is a walking anachronism, a duality of forces, a conundrum of personality. He’s bored and interesting, insightful and exciting. Moral yet lascivious. He cares deeply and not at all. Experienced though na├»ve. He’s arrogant and shy. Profane and eloquent. Loquacious and silent. Childish and churlish, hurtful and loving. Sometimes spiteful with his play, painful with his threats.  So many contradictions hide within this chameleon man, yet the child remains inside.

Both tick all the mother's boxes, a match made on the ether. The daughter that she loves, the son in law she wants. Of all the lovers in all the world, these she's sure would meld but neither will comply. He  won't act upon his whim and she barely knows he's there. Barriers have been built through the tyranny of distance, a fantasy refusing to unfold.

"Send me cupcakes  and your first  born!" rings like tinnitus in her ears.

She sends him cupcakes and his watermark intensifies.

This is a 10th Daughter of Memory Post for "There's Gotta Be a Catch"


  1. excellent prose and vivid descriptions...perhaps to come true for you...

  2. really great writing. you keep surprising me!

  3. Excellent writing, Baino. I really like the string of contradictions.

    And in the music behind your words, I think I hear a familiar theme...

  4. my ears are ringing dear.
    Intense case of tinnitus - I believe

    Love from the moon