Thursday, December 29, 2022

4150 : Fire Engine

(Excerpted from a fictional piece)'

I felt my tea cup. Luke warm. Muddy warm coffee suited you just fine. You said it assuaged your "lingering mind, ", and even today, I have no fucking idea what that could possibly mean.

The sunlight was upon us, thawing the open deck we had occupied.  You were laughing, your famed guffaw which shook the table. I was cussing about someone we know, and you adored my habit of cussing. I don't cuss anymore, not as much. You brought out the best cuss out of me. Now is that a compliment?

You had these strange expressions. One of them was "we are laughing like pigs". I come from a small town in the middle of the country, and had a pig sty right behind my home. Used to hear them "oinking" but never once heard them laugh. 

As you grinned and thumped the table, you reached out and held my hands. Not simply held them, you kind of massaged them in a moist sort of way. The sexual energy was palpable. Though honestly, it almost seemed as if this did not/had not even crossed your mind.  

In an unhinged sort of way, you were always mindful. Always committed to the moment. In the middle of that "pig laugh", as you kneaded my hand, I distinctly remembered that you began singing a song. just because you heard the riff on the speakers behind us....It was a song by Yusuf Islam (I had to google that he was once Cat Stevens). You explained to me that this was his biggest song.....and you hummed and sang along with the lyrics. I only remembered this because you told me the story about his conversion to Islam.

Something in that hand gesture, felt so fucking intimate. As if we were naked, as if we were lovers. I wish we were. I wanted more of it. Do you hear Tail, I will take it anyday. Yet, it always threw me off.

You could never be mine. I often professed, I never wanted to possess you, and yet, thats the only thing I have ever wanted in the last decade. That intimate story was the apple tree in our orchard. Forbidden and yet snakes all around tempting us. 

On that table, that day, I shifted uncomfortably. "We dont have a future.", I blurted out. You responded some trite to the effect - As a poet, if we cannot imagine, then our lives will be meandering and hopeless. We should believe in angels, you said....else there was no chance that angels could be possible.

As we parted that day, you dropped me a message which said, "Spin, lets burn the world together.". I was at a traffic stop and had read this. I started driving again, and sighed so loudly, the car shuddered, "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

Bloody. We could not even kiss in the comfort of this world. Our lips were dry. We could not hold hands when we wanted to. Our hands were barren. And this fucking idiot, wanted to burn the world? Asshole.

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