Individual scoring.

Trying to decipher the language betwixt the bodies requires cutthroat grace.

Pay attention too closely and you’ve only caught the fragments.
Stay too far away and you miss telling nuances.

The language between the bodies is a soft as ruffling sheets,
as addictive as sugar,
sweet as sin.

Of the toes that bend.

Non dirlo a me.
Non dimenticate.
Non prenda.
Ho sempre dare.

Non aspettare.
Non urlare.
Non lasciare.
Io vado sempre.

Non piangere.
Non cadere.
Non pausa.
Mi fa sempre piacere.

Non.

Ears not required.

I remember being excited when we pulled up to her house. It was a duplex, and her mother lived on the other side.

The house was just outside of downtown on a street called Crescent Avenue. There were hills underneath the sidewalks and the trees were huge and ancient. It was a busy street, but somehow the size of the trees made it seem peaceful.

I was fourteen. I remember this because I made my mother listen to a new cd I had just purchased because I wanted her to hear the song that I sang to my six month old sister Ally. I changed the name of it to Allyserine.

My mother was involved with a lot of charities and non profit organizations and from an early age I grew accustomed to seeing her fight for the underdog. This one she started with a friend of hers helping deaf people live in society without fear. The city that we lived in had a relatively large deaf community, but didn’t really know what to do with them… or at least that what she would tell me in one of her frantic rants about injustice in the common man’s world.

Several years prior to all of this my mother taught ASL (American Sign Language) to families of deaf people. And she started this because one of her then new clients was deaf and she grew very fond of the woman. The woman came to live with us for a little while and loved the space out in the country. She only moved out because my mother had helped her find work. Work that the woman longed to do like everyone else was able to without a second thought.

She is who we were visiting today.

My mother pushed the doorbell, and I remember looking at it perplexed, thinking, “Christ Mom, you should know better than to mock a deaf woman.” But, as if by some miracle the woman heard it and excitedly welcomed us in. Once in, I saw that the doorbell wasn’t of sound but of light. There were three lights in the woman’s house that flashed when someone pushed the button.

Once in, I noticed another oddity. She had a huge home theater set up. I saw all of her cd’s, and the huge speakers. For a moment I thought a hearer was living with her, but after noticing my reaction the woman signed to me, “You think because I’m deaf I can’t hear music?”

By 14 I had learned quite a bit of ASL after being around it at such a young age and I was able to talk with the woman, with a bit of mom’s help.

I was amused by this and asked her what she meant. She then told me that the bass is up all the way so she can feel the music. She says the beats and vibrations put her at ease, or pump her up, depending on what she plays. So we talked music for a while.

I’ll never forget her love for The Cramps.