I missed the feel of static electricity rubbing my arm, specifically from an old TV—the type that makes bulu-roma kita berdiri. Nostalgia. Childhood innocence. Something about time, that kau tahu it's relative, but at the same time moments yang dah lepas kau takkan rewind balik. Gone. There's no button untuk kenangan. Macam TV LED sekarang mana ada static. And all those lost moments aku akan isikan lopong-lopong itu dengan ayat "oh man, I forgot." Atau "Fuck, maca mana ek?" Contoh, aku lupa macam mana jumpa Afi dulu. Atau sajak-sajak yang banyak aku tinggalkan dan tak pernah datang balik. Apa entah lagi Rilke pesan; pasal masa dan sabar yang aku selalu rasa time moves relatively slow when you hang out with those two. Aku ingat-ingat lupa, Rumi cakap pasal luka tempat cahaya masuk. Kak Sheena always cakap about love & light. Mungkin, di rekah-rekah itu time slips away, bringing our memories out with it. Leaving only this low light (macam Yosra dan Melissa cakap) for us to live and love—ianya cukup.
Tapi, there are moments that stayed with you. The fact that aku masih ingat TV dulu-dulu ada static. And how I'd go wiping it off as if ianya adalah debu-debu elektronik yang aku perlu sapu. Now, moments that stayed; aku ingat Bang Jay ajak lepak 1st time; aku ingat macam mana aku terjun jeti kat Pulau Duyung selepas membaca puisi homage kepada Meor; aku ingat how Bang Jamal gave me comfort sebelum 1st time perform Sajakjakjak; and how a 5-hour Whatsapp conversation turned into an 18-month-entah-berapa-hour-relationship—Farah, have I told you I miss you like I missed static electricity from an old TV. Funny how time is relative, and how fast those moments dah berlalu and look where we are today.
We're no time-travellers—keepers, perhaps. So, I kept whatever's left from a blurred line, and aku pun tak tahu whether boleh panggil apa aku tulis ni puisi atau prosa; well, I don't mind kalau prosa ini puitis, atau puisi ini prosaik.
Funny how I tried to write a pome, about macam mana aku rindu static electricity, menjadi some random curhat like my indonesian friends would say it.
And mula-mula, I just wanted to say:
I missed you
macam mana I
rindu static from
an old TV
rubs my hand, arms, hair follicle
bezanya, this
warm-fuzzy feeling
aku rasakan right now;
it feels throughout
my entire body.
YOU ARE READING
Bi
PoetryPuisi-puisi bahasanya that swing both ways. Melayunya masih indah di lidah; Inggeris dan lain-lainnya bukan penjajah. A remix of homage to the OG's with a touch of new-school feel.
