Monday, October 25, 2010
"Maybe You'd Like to Go for a Walk?"
I sit with her, by the stream, and I think about what it will be like to touch her.
My heart should be splitting out of my chest. Alone, the two of us. I watch the late-sun shadows on her face. I see the cold fire in her stare, amazing as that might be to me. I can see that she sees something of the same in me.
But the tight breaths are past. Years past. It feels good to sit by the stream, youth knitted up in wiser lives. It almost makes it more sweet. Inching up to the hill and looking down. Once I start the plunge, with trees and rocks whirring, gravity will shove in the middle of my back toward her gravity, and I'll barely believe the shock of it. I'll want to sigh every last molecule of air from my lungs.
That's what it will be like to touch her. There will be the static heat, and the ground evaporating under my feet. She'll want me on her skin, her hidden skin, and her hands will find dark ways underneath my shirt.
But right now she's sitting there, smiling sometimes, and thinking other times. The autumn stream is very pretty. Even if there's not much to say.
I could die in that falling moment, frozen when she surrenders. When the first touch explodes into tornado winds and moaning reeds and flashing prism crystals.
She's looking at me now, and my heart is beating after all.
Something is changing. We both can feel it.
The tipping has started.
And it will be much more than I imagined it could be.