June 27, 2009
I'm going to write about you.The gentle meeting before we knew each other and the mangled indecision in between.
I will remark the sounds... The gravel crunching beneath our feet -- over crowded parking lots and regular race tracks. The morning laughter bursting from our chests. The cold cans of beer popping open with surprise against the heat. The throttle, blip, blip, blip! in our hands. The regular voices passing by, dropping in, rambling on with extended stays. The slow sound of your thick explanations spreading easily like melting butter. The anxious silence of uncertainty.
Once we got rolling, how we hurried. As though we knew we'd lose. Riding faster into a receding corner, we fought with the last minute decision to stand her up against the past or lean her into a smooth and steady commitment.
How we brought the sun to our own sky. We indirectly refused the hand we were dealt and selfishly chose the cards that would best benefit right then.
The dance we shared at midnight in a building dripping with years of neglect. The beauty of us that was forever wrapped into the dilapidation that surrounded our embrace. How we saw nothing of dust that gripped the walls, the destruction that begged the ceiling, the age that bent the floor. We floated over cracks, sailed through sad conditions, rose above the din of disapproval.
The thrill that we might be doing something wrong exchanged for the hope that we were doing something right.
The days we once wore inside out. How we'd wring from them each last second and still turn our heads with sharp force for more. Somehow there was always more, for the story would not end.
I'm going to write about you.
I'm going to write about me.