"Nancy Springer - Transendence" - читать интересную книгу автора (Springer Nancy)

come from -- well, where the hell did you come from? You are the most amazing
person I have ever met.

I've been thinking about you a lot. Do you have family? Are there people
(besides me) who care about you?

Care about you, hell, I need a good dose of your honesty. What I am really
trying to say is, are there people who love you? Maybe that's a sophomoric
question, maybe the way you keep company with the angels you're above wanting
hugs and kisses, but I have to ask because I am kind of obsessed by the idea of
love. I guess love is what I want the most in the world, because I haven't had
much so far. My family is a mess -- I don't want to bore you with a lot of
sob-story detail, I'll just say it's bad, abusive, and I've survived by leaving
it behind. (Thank God for scholarships.) So I try not to look back, I look to
the future, and what I dream about is finding what I haven't had in the past.
You know. A beautiful girl -- no, a beautiful woman who by some miracle wants
me, and I fall like crazy, and when we touch the earth moves, and we build a
life together, the whole hearts-beating-as-one cliche. And I don't know why I am
being so inane and babbling about myself when what I really started to say was,
do you have family or are you alone? Because if you are alone, that makes two of
us.

What made you start writing poetry? Was it this love thing? When thousands of
people love your poems, does that count as thousands of people loving you?

Maybe, seriously, that is what I should do -- learn to write. But I don't
exactly want to be famous. I really just want somebody to love me. Do you want
the same thing?

See you next week? Please? I swear I'll pay for the food this time.
Love,
Jeremy

Dear Jeremy,

Oh, Jeremy, my beautiful Jeremy, what am I going to do? No. Absolutely not. Do
not come here anymore -- the mansion where I live, made of poetry, it is a
prison, Jeremy, not a palace. Stay away. Do not think anymore about being a
writer, about being alone, about being like me, any of that. Save yourself, run
from me. You are young and full of heart and you do not deserve to be devoured
by a lonesome loathsome thing. I am hideous, but you are so lovely all the
flower-faced girls will adore you once they wake up and see. I swear it. They
will all love you. Jeremy gazes with wise hazel eyes
In the morning love comes to him
With alar cheekbones he seeks transcendence
In stone-washed denim love comes to him.
Jeremy waits with his soul unfurled
In Jordache jeans love comes to him
With a sweet mouth he awaits her
On a lazy angel wind she comes to him.