We
sit in the blackness of my darkened car, the last inches of sunset
receding below the place where the trees join the freeway. I look at
him as I pull the keys from the ignition, the engine rumbling to a
halt. The emergency brake clicks on and I switch off my headlights,
shutting out our last inches of light. His hair is outlined by the
shivers of moonlight floating through the passenger window and it
curls wildly around his ears. He's focused on something, god only
knows what, as he continues to stare out the darkened window,
reflecting his face back at us.
We
were just kids, alone in a blackened vehicle as we flew through
freeways with newfound freedom. We were just kids then, alone with
lips flooded by stories we both craved to release. His words flew out
faster than mine, I guess he'd had less time to work on the webbed
walls we wore over our lips.
Last
night I dreamed of you. In this dream we weren't parting and I wasn't
leaving you behind. In this dream you loved me as I love you and in
this dream you held my hand when I reached for yours.
I
tell him of you as we sit there, my face turned away as "Futile
Devices" plays on his ipod and he asks me if I want him to
change it but I don't. The riffs and falls of I do love you
replay in the darkness as I remember the way we walked forever, faces
creased with laughter hysterical like falling in love.
"It's
the loneliness, you know," he says, voice cutting through the
darkness. Yeah. I do.
"It's
the summer, the empiness in hot sheets. It's hard to fall asleep."
I
can tell from the marks on his cheeks where tears have carved
bloodlines that he has felt the hollowness that gnaws in the night.
"It's
the nights that are the hardest." His silence agrees with me. In
the night I see the way your hair flopped over your eyes and you
smiled at me under orange streetlights. At night I hear the way your
laughter floated through the streets of this city like kites held
down by the strings of our differing plans.
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