when it strikes...
there is a light on our street right outside our house that has been doing what can only be described as dying for past few months.
it comes on clear and bright slightly green in hue. and it changes slowly into an orange color and then shuts off. then begins again.
i referred to it as the respirator of the lamp.
he said it was the EKG reading of the city's heartbeat.
he came in just after the mosquitoes had stopped biting, smelling of cigarettes and gasoline.
i poured a glass of water in the kitchen while he washed his hands in the sink.
"i have something to show you."
outside i kicked over my black p-series and he respectively on his british racing green primivera.
love smells like 2-stroke scooter exhaust.
we carved the pavement on our two wheeled knives. over to where the business complexes and warehouses were sleeping. on the weekends that place feels like a ghost town.
we pulled off the the poorly lit road and walked over into a field.
it was an antenna field.
antennas reaching for the sky dotted with the red lights to signal planes from hitting them.
it was so beautiful as we stared up at the sky to where the lights seemed to be pointing. listening to traffic in the distance competing with the sound of crickets.
we held hands. we didn't have to talk about anything. i could feel his pulse through my fingertips.
he pulled me close and wrapped his arm around my hips.
we kissed like you do in high school, when you don't really know what is supposed to happen next.
in the blink of an eye we were back on the road.
i see him pulling ahead of me. it wasn't that his bike went faster than mine, he just liked going faster than me.
that sound.
like a gasp of air mixes with screeching tires.
i blink again and i am back at our house
a wrecked british racing green primavera in the driveway.
i sit at the end of the side walk watching our street lamp, waiting for it to turn on again.
as the mosquitoes bite at my ankles.
the darkest street in town.
then i wake up and none of it ever happened.
he doesn't exist.
it comes on clear and bright slightly green in hue. and it changes slowly into an orange color and then shuts off. then begins again.
i referred to it as the respirator of the lamp.
he said it was the EKG reading of the city's heartbeat.
he came in just after the mosquitoes had stopped biting, smelling of cigarettes and gasoline.
i poured a glass of water in the kitchen while he washed his hands in the sink.
"i have something to show you."
outside i kicked over my black p-series and he respectively on his british racing green primivera.
love smells like 2-stroke scooter exhaust.
we carved the pavement on our two wheeled knives. over to where the business complexes and warehouses were sleeping. on the weekends that place feels like a ghost town.
we pulled off the the poorly lit road and walked over into a field.
it was an antenna field.
antennas reaching for the sky dotted with the red lights to signal planes from hitting them.
it was so beautiful as we stared up at the sky to where the lights seemed to be pointing. listening to traffic in the distance competing with the sound of crickets.
we held hands. we didn't have to talk about anything. i could feel his pulse through my fingertips.
he pulled me close and wrapped his arm around my hips.
we kissed like you do in high school, when you don't really know what is supposed to happen next.
in the blink of an eye we were back on the road.
i see him pulling ahead of me. it wasn't that his bike went faster than mine, he just liked going faster than me.
that sound.
like a gasp of air mixes with screeching tires.
i blink again and i am back at our house
a wrecked british racing green primavera in the driveway.
i sit at the end of the side walk watching our street lamp, waiting for it to turn on again.
as the mosquitoes bite at my ankles.
the darkest street in town.
then i wake up and none of it ever happened.
he doesn't exist.