I want to take your picture
I want to guide your eye
I want to love you deeply
I never want to die
Let’s run out of the city
Let’s run far from the sun
Into the darkness of each other
Into the void where we are one
I wake up in her room around eight on Saturday morning.
I quietly get up and step out to get water from the fridge and the bright morning light immediately washes over the headache that’s brewing and makes clear the taste of lipstick and cigarettes.
The view from the room looks out over most of the small cities in the Arroyo and the world seems to stand still. Her dog sleeps peacefully in a soundless patch of shadow in the corner. I step back into the room.
She turns over and faces the wall to block the sun.
“Close the door babe, yeah?”
Later, when we both get up, we joke around and listen to Oldies, but slowly, with no cue, we transition and start to catalog an ever increasing list of the previous nights bad decisions.
“I don’t want to fuck this up,” she says while we’re laying on the bed, her fingers playing with my hair.
“Neither do I.”
“So what do we do?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “I have no fucking clue.”
The house gets warm and the day gets brighter, so we each shower and get ready. We drive towards La Chuperia and listen to The Band and Muddy Waters on the way.
We drink Micheladas and they do a good job of clearing up the bad feelings and clear the air. We talk about going to the batting cages but then scrap that idea and go back to her place and have sex again.
We drink tequila while we watch baseball and chase the taste with the sweetest limes that I have ever had and I never want to leave but we both have to go.
We smoke on the patio and take in the view. We both secretly prepare for the rest of the day.
“How are we going to make this work?” she says, breaking the silence.
“I guess we’re both going to have to be ok with lying and deceiving,” I say.
A sense of future moments flashes in her eye and then I lean over and kiss her.