the uncertainty principle ( a coffee house in vancouver ) .
the uncertainty principle ( a coffee house in vancouver ) .
( ( as if i could forget you ? ) )
i catch your eyes across this coffee house . a flicker of recognition , i hold your gaze for a moment .
you appear as if a monster on halloween , you emerge out of the fog , hauntingly , you appear in the midst of my familiarity , in a space that i’ve deemed my own . you tread in my territory , confident , you walk into my life armed to disarm me , to steal it .
and yet , you’re the one that looks like prey . you , the unfamiliar , daring to venture into my territory , have the audacity to look like a deer in headlights .
you appear , just after nine pm in this coffee house on hastings ,
you have the audacity to appear in this coffee house , just after nine pm in this coffee house on hastings .
this place , which isn ‘t terribly off of what my aesthetic used to be , gothic pastel you’d say , i can hear in the echo of my mind , teasing smile playing on your lips . i banish the thought .
this space , for me at least , is a safe space . this space , where time bends and days pass endlessly , time running simultaneously too fast and too slow , feels to some capacity , like you . time passes as it did when we first met . theres a rush , the short time that we’ve known each other stretches infinitely as if we’ve been friends since we could talk . ( even now , i look at my childhood memories and i can swear the ghost of you haunts them , i swear that your young face appears somewhere , and for a moment i am convinced that this moment is like that . i am convinced that i have somehow i have imagined you into my life once more . ) and yet the length of how long we’ve known each other feels like an instance , as if we’ve burned so bright and so quickly it’s over in a flash and all i am left with is ashes that prove what happened did just happen. this space envelops me in the comforts of falling in love . the push and pull , the wax and wane of the moon and the patrons of this coffeehouse , a constant . this space , soaked in sweetness and caffeine , reminds me of sweet tea . southern sweet tea . the kind you can only find in the southern states of america . and in turn , this sweet tea reminds me of you / there are few things in my life that have not been touched by your memory . and this a constant as well .
the atmosphere in here , is one of quiet love . there are soft paintings on the wall that remind me of another age , one where hope burns like open fire . and there are signs here , faded and worn by time , the menu aged at the edges , enough for you to know , you just know that this space has been loved by those who dont need to see the menu , we all know it by heart , or so it seems. at this point , this space has become more house than coffee , and it is in the space between the two that this space rests .
if i had to describe this place to people who would never meet it , never enter into this bubble of isolated spacetime , i would describe it as quiet love , or perhaps as tired eyes . this space seems as if it was built for the tired . at the counter , tired baristas hustle their days away , the kind of baristas that will smile at you and wish to quietly proclaim anarchy, but from within the capitalist position , and aware of their hypocracy , will choose to say nothing . on the wall rests a tired man , a tired crucified Jesus , eyes that have seen too much and too little . shining , a protector , but not one of force . in this liberal space , in this liberal city , it feels out of place , to mount a tired Christ , it seems , both disrepectful and fitting at once . and here he is , spread along the cross , nailed to the cross , nailed to the wall . and so ,
under the careful and calculated gaze of a crucified Jesus hanging misplaced on the wall , under the not so careful gaze of the worn barista , matching the tired Christ that leaves no threat over the domain , a protector , but not a force
“hi” you breathe , quiet , as if the very balance of the universe will tip if you thunder through this moment / you gaze at me as if this ripple in the silence will scare me away , will scare your mind back into reason , or something or another and you will be left alone here , sipping on coffee that is too unfamiliar to be comforting in this instance , but just familiar enough to leave this moment with this memory attached , reminding you every morning of my chocolate eyes and my steadfast gaze .
“hi” i echo , unsure .
( i don ‘t know what you intend . i don ‘t know what i intend . i don ‘t know a lot of things in this moment it seems. )
“it’s been , , a while . how ‘ve the years treated you ? ” you smile , soft , as if we ‘d abandoned each other in another life . startled into conciousness , you inquire into my life as if you ‘re equally unsure about your intentions /
there exists a silence that follows , one where i watch the uncertainty flicker through your body language , you tense , i remark , as if you ‘re suddenly aware of your place , and suddenly aware of your unfamiliarity with this situation , with these circumstances , as if you ‘re realizing for the first time since catching my gaze that you have no idea where to go from here . i nearly laugh . in another life , in that existence we shared so long ago , you were so self assured , or convinced yourself you were . and here , you are as uncertain as i was back then . it seems , i notice in retrospect , that we ‘ve switched roles .
short breath , i part my lips , calculated gentle cock of my head , friendly smile , slightly dazed look , “sorry , do i know you ?”
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