The Drawing Board

Some rough draft stories, favorite blog posts other stuff.

Sunday, September 28, 2003

Guest Post

- r a z o r b l a d e | r o m a n c e -

a bright day, with a dash of cold in the wind.
early summer. the air is clean and fresh, the scent of fresh flowers and new leaves gliding in the breeze.
we met at the train station, where you'd waited for me on a wooden bench.
i pulled up in my car, a battered old thing, held together with rust and positive thinking.

and so, after a slightly awkward greeting, mixed with a shy hug, we set off.
i had a tape of spanish guitar songs in the car that we listened to as we drove out of town.
it was my intention that the music would break the ice, that we'd sing along together, out-of-tune and out-of-time but enjoying ourselves nonetheless
you tapped your foot to the first song, patted your hands on your thighs to the second, and by the fourth we both hummed along, a happy resonance.
i'll remember that ride forever. the smell of your hair in the confines of my car, that crackle underlying the music, the vibration in the air.

i'd packed a picnic based on our chat over instant messenger a few days before, when we were setting the wheels into motion.
unfortunately, i couldn't stretch to caviar or oysters, so i'd packed a hot flask of clam chowder.
and you laughed. the sun on your skin gave it a luminescent appearance. your laughter was water over pebbles. mine, a powerful riptide.
you didn't mind me smoking. marlboro cigarettes and a battered bronze zippo lighter. ash tapped onto soft green grass.
i said the sky reminded me of the ocean. for you, the clouds were mystical creatures, we sat holding hands in silent contemplation.

the drive home in the late afternoon took far too long, and was not nearly enough time for us to sate our hunger for each other's companionship
we got to the trailer park by the time the sky had turned a soft pink. my home wasn't the castle i'd hoped for in childhood.
you commented on the window box, but in truth, i'd never been able to get anything but gypsophelia to grow there.
and then, i unlocked the door, let you, and followed you.

fin.

---contributed by an anonymous reader....