Your Easy Words

"Hiii....." he happily yawlped with a drool as I strolled toward him the third time in ten minutes. "I like yo hat, preddy lady."

I acknowledged his compliment with a slight head tilt, a crocked smile, and a brief moment of eye contact. I had seen this man before - black skin, black rain coat, heavy army boots stained brown from restless, aimless walks with his arms stretched out in hope and desire, his gray-tipped beard spotted with kitchens that made him look like the survivor of a chimney fire - and because his approach deserved attention, I made sure he noticed my compassion even though it lacked monetary value.

As I passed, my faithful friend continued, "I really doooo. What's yo name preddy lady? Preddy hat?"

"It doesn't really matter."

"He-he! Call me! 510...97..." His laughter reminded me of a character from my favorite book, so I turned my head to the left as I stepped down from the curve to cross 20th Ave all so he could see I was smiling. "..6426..." and the numbers drifted off into the distance. For all I know, he rambled 20 more digits in random sequence into the night air, ever hoping for the values to return as little silver coins in his cap at the end of those outstretched arms of hope and desire.

His words were empty and born from loneliness but they made me feel perfectly full. How can someone in so much need himself throw out such syllables and inspire happiness in passerbys when perfectly privileged people spit curses and frowns and poisonous energy around so carelessly? It seems to me a war is on - a battle between the empty, simple men who brim with life versus the fruitful, complex men who are hollow, their love songs echoing. Who will stand virtuous in the end?

"I can hear it, I can hear some words, but I can't DO anything with your easy words."

So let me be direct and to the point because it's what we all deserve. I'll speak to the "you" who sing and speak of passion. Alas...

Your words are meant to mean something serious. Saying that you like me... saying that I bring the best out of you... that means you naturally have a piece of my heart, even if it is a small piece. It's a piece that's pounding and bleeding and yearning to survive in your hands. What hurts is that now that you have me in a vulnerable state, it's clear your words are as empty as a homeless man shouting his imaginary phone number at me from across the street, and at least he does it with a smile. While one hand clutches my emotion, your other is on my shoulder because you're trying to speak through touch that "you're here." It's just that the longer your skin resides on mine, the more I feel the gaps and spaces and emptiness between us through the wrinkles and crevasses and pockets between atoms. You're here, but it doesn't feel present. It's like a memory... like an expectation I'm trying to fulfill for myself. The more time ticks on, the more imaginary you become and more alone I feel.

I can't do anything with sorrys and excuses - those words are just too easy. I'm looking to grow into the happiest, most fulfilled person I can be. I want to move forward bravely and still look back with a giant smile because I feel - actually physically and intuitively feel - the love you're casting out to the world. I can't live according to the echoes of false intentions, no, not this time, not again; I need to see love. I need to feel and touch love. I need to DO something with the feeling between us to make it stronger and taller and healthier, to turn it into a better love, not just sit and hear the shell of words cracking open into silence... that sound lingers and stalks so hopelessly, like a depressive calling into the past for answers to a future dilemma.

What I need more than an easy few words is a hope that everything you cast out to the world will in turn produce an unstoppable smile and silver pieces in your cap.

Like I need water and food and shelter, I need you to be empty of expectations, simple at heart, and brimming with words that have depth and marrow. I need optimism to overflow. I don't need you to love me now, but I need you to love life so unabashedly that no matter what obstacle is thrown in, nothing can stop that love from growing stronger and taller and healthier, and filling the lonely spaces between us.

His words meant nothing but because of his love, I was happier. Does he win? Or can you, too, throw such crazy things out into the night that make me turn and smile?