The Cool Night air

September 28, 2012
The cool night air
was squeezed out of the way
as our car blew past.
It settled lazily a few moments later,
the whorls losing their verve,
idly waiting for another passerby.

The back seat was soft, comfy,
and your body felt warm
close to mine.
We exchanged words quietly
while the wheels beneath spun,
driving us inexorably nearer to our destination.

Your hand in mine
and mine in yours,
our fingertips brushed one another lazily.
The only thing keeping us at bay from one another
was your father’s steady gaze in the rearview.
I watched the placement of my hands.

I counted the minutes,
and the sound of pavement scraping at rubber was heard
as the Chevy took a tight corner.
Slowly scraping rubber.
Slowly but inevitably towards extinction
until all that remains is nothing
and the tiny molecules of tire are left there.
Left on every road they ever traveled on
every street they ever tread,
every highway leading to somewhere,
every day they ever saw,
every night they ever lived,
every strip they ever raced,
every trip to here or there.

Like my will to go on,
that has been left.
Left on every life I have touched,
every song I have sung,
every path I have walked,
every bed I have slept,
every night I have dreamt,
every tear I have cried,
every time I have tried,
Yes, it will be, I do declare,
until I have died.

But that’s the beauty of it, you see.
Because for every time I’ve
sung, walked,
slept, dreamt,
cried, tried,
declared or died,
there are a million times more waiting
for the life you’ll spend with me.

You see for every atom in a Neutron star,
to the power of the number of stars in the sky,
to the power of the number of grains of sand on planet Earth,
yes, for every one of those, times zero…
there is a time when I will not love you.

And so as your father’s Chevy ground to a halt,
I climbed out.
And wishing I could just have another minute,
a minute where your eyes look into mine,
and the scent of your hair fills my nostrils,
and your hand fits perfectly in mine,
yes just another minute
where your very presence intoxicates me,
I am forced to say the one word
that I despise more than any other:

And with a surreal grace,
I swung the door shut
behind me.
And then you smiled,
even as the car whisked you away
into the dark blue night.

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