just i and my friend.

but we will remember, long after saturdays gone.

 i'm going away with my friend to the end of the day.



i saw the sterile cuckoo last night. i was weeping before the end by the end my eyes warm rivulets. i remember that song come saturday morning and the film must have bedded down deep inside me. oh liza, i felt so close to her. when she cried it was me crying. it was both of us in a corner in a shadow in a wicker chair in a boarding house room it was abject love. 
i was flustered. i thought there are parts i'll never know. parts missing in my life i want that film to reveal. how we want our own lives to be explained by the movies we love. how we want our love to live there. so many echoes. her father was always going away, always sending her away. she called him that mailman. 
at the same time i love that so much is said and so little is explained and so connected, so loved, so befuddled and so much in love. 
would i know more if i read the book? maybe not, maybe it's all there in liza's eyes, the whole story.
she grasped the hapless boy for ordinary life. she was not ordinary. she called the ordinary people weirdos, she saw how desperate they all were to fit in, how they covered their uniqueness, and their pain, in conformity. she saw that was his fate. her's was abject love. he studied hard to blend with the crowd. he packed her off to the home she was escaping.

only a few will likely read this. maybe you will watch the movie, and cry too. and it will feel good.