I think I'm getting sick.
Perhaps I swallowed a wasp while I slept. Sometimes when I sleep my mouth hangs open as though in a state of awe, allowing insects entry and thick sputum to seep out. Or maybe it was that piece of gum that fell from my mouth in the gas-station bathroom. The 5-second rule has its limitations.
The sky last night was alight with fire and possibility. Clouds glowed overhead like a brilliant flaming aurora, warming the cool night air that drifted in from the Pacific. Pinks, golds and shades of crimson bruised the clouds before chasing away the dusk.
We traveled to Saturn and climbed a steep set of stairs. We sat on green benches and spoke beneath the blanketing shadows. Smiles flickered from our faces like lights illuminating darkened windows; revenant love resurrected. A streetlight started beside us, attracting small winged creatures buzzing with curiosity. A charcoal colored cat patrolled our perimeter, warmly brushing against my leg while we whispered.
On a corner under a starless sky we embraced. The earth shook beneath us.
My arms coiled around her like snakes.
Her heart drummed in my ear; mine raced to meet it.
Drunk and clumsy from her touch, I forced a rambling farewell and ambled away.
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