The drive from the airport is sullen. The buildings scurry past, whirling into colors that distill into nothingness. We’re going so fast that my soul stops being my soul and emancipates into the air, becoming one with the escaping wind – converging into a cul-de-sac that will only end with one of us rolling frantically on the tarmac tonight. Above us, the night sky and the stars waltz in a celestial form of lovemaking, elucidating our surroundings until we are both so lust-filled that I can only glance at you and you at me.
We drive in silence because the air is thick with things we’d both rather not say. Eventually, you say you love me. I’m overwhelmed by this – because the night sky is dark enough to make us feel like we’re the only beings worthy of experiencing the bliss of the celestial realm, but dotted with enough stars to make us realize our insignificance in the vast expanse of space and reality. I know I shouldn’t, but I wonder if you knew you loved me when you were inside her. The grimace that tugs on my face is enough to make you know that I am thinking exactly this. And so, you stop the car on the side of the road and stare at me silently – the stars and clouds converge into a seance. You reach for me like one of us will end up laying motionlessly on the tarmac tonight. At first, I protest. But it’s 9:40PM, a Monday and there isn’t enough strength pouncing in my bones as your fingers reel my mind into a place I swore would never exist again. At 9:41PM I realize that I will never stop loving you. At 9:42PM the words crawl up my throat and scour my lips until I pull you in like string and hand the syllables to you like silk, “I love you.”
By 9:43PM we’re making love, and the shadows decide that they are too desecrated by loss to escape their skeletons so they grab me instead, dance ecstatically around a campfire – my body the wood, the car the graveyard. The air is heavy with broken promises, I’ve baked my body into so many confessions that I’ve forgotten the sound of my own name. At 9:45PM I discover what it feels like to be on fire but never burn out – everything inside of me ashes until there is close to nothing left. And still, I am here. Still my tongue is crumbling into a murmur, into a scream, into a song. Still the stars blink harmoniously, dissipate into intricate fireflies of destruction that waltz around us judiciously. Everything is in synchrony with my steady, beating chest. Everything is converging into a cul-de-sac that will only end with one of us on the tarmac tonight.
– One of us will end up on the tarmac tonight/ Cul-de-sac