hyacinth_girl ClairE Hyacinth girl, I picture you laughing, or bemused, a halo of curly hair around your face. At first you were my newest fad, a game, excitement personified. To learn you were pretty was the biggest thrill. I played my cards right, because we parlayed our hour_long phone conversations into something real, a rock, a confidante. Then you loomed large over my life, to one side, a canopy of promise. I hauled you down and made you into my best friend, settling slowly down. Now you are less in my life but more in my mind, my critic. You are pulled together into something real, and that makes you more. My sweet thing, I tie you down with these pet names but they say what I mean. They will suffice. How to write a whole extraordinary girl into one piece of paper? Your lovers would agree. No one would doubt your intelligence. You're tart as a grape, and burst when squeezed. But mostly you hold secrets in your sphere, refreshing as cool sheets, or sometimes a mother's hand. You've raised me, and should be proud. May I ask the same honor? Eyelashes, dancing shoes-- anything, no matter how far removed from you can describe your self to me. You're such a part of me I can even find you within any object. You're not my compass. You're an anchor. Tangled up only in my mind, I see you solid, and complete. You make me up, your writings and your phone calls and god knows what it is that makes us sisters. I've learned through you. My hyacinth rests by my bed, Lynn, solid, complete, and altogether beautiful. 010403 031027 ... blah-ze hyakinthos was apollo's lover. apollo brained him with a discus, and they named a flower after him. 031027 ... T.S. Eliot 'You gave me hyacinths first a year ago; 'They called me the hyacinth girl.' —Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden, Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, Looking into the heart of light, the silence. 031028 what's it to you? who go blather from