So that’s Sam, for the moment. You see Sam was not just a lover, a friend, companion or any other dictionary kind of word we use to tell people about things. If anything he was spirit…but that’s getting ahead of it all.
For those who like comparisons, I was quite different – I loved detail, intricacies, the world’s complexities. Compared to Sam’s spontaneity, my worlds were grains of desert sand in a storm, fractured light on unbevelled glass, tea leaves and black holes. I’d bury myself and need extracting from my fascination, analysis, obsessions. I was, predictably, always late, delayed, missing in action (even born after term – mum’s womb just made me want to sink myself into the whole extraterrestrial experience). I still had to learn that the world needed me to work hard to keep things simple, manageable, conversational.
I was at a bus stop when Sam came along. The book I was devouring made me miss three buses in a row. I was late and Sam just laughed. He said ‘follow me’ and winked, and my world from then on, confusingly started to make sense – like a randomly scattered deck of cards falling wierdly into place. Then, much later, he’d lead me to ‘our place’. There we’d discover touch and making love which would leave us ship-wrecked and safe-harboured in each others soft, tanned and naked arms.