So you can let it get to you, if you’re not careful.
Slow and sweet, like a fresh onion, lifting up to eyes the bare fragrance. Tears form, fall, dark wood on lighter wood. Patchwork, patches.
If it is a powerful one-moment, it will hit like the elbow against a table, the toe against a door, the breath knocked out. Knocked clean out. Steam rises while you sit on the ground, wondering what the hell happened first. Next. What happens next?
Then it is none of these things: a song you never liked, you remember all the words now, and exactly how the ingenuine lead singer shifts her eyes to look into television-audience-you, and both of you know it was never a moment you shared, just the idea of one.