Driving...
No, her driving
and him in the back seat
trying to make sense of the map
on that one lane road
just as it is starting to rain...
This is the journey,
the journey they had both been anticipating
for weeks,
waiting for without ever admitting it
to each other.
I'm talking about how
it all comes down to
him wanting some strawberries
from the bag in the backseat
and from there, well, it just goes...
First the innuendo, then the accusations
then the stories of each of their
mutual abandonments,
finally, the silence and the fear.
Then her saying she has to use the bathroom,
and him saying there's nowhere to stop,
that they'll just have to push on.
And then,
not able to hold it,
she begins to pee in her pants
while
simultaneously
confessing
EVERYTHING.
Her jeans and the seat
are seeped
in the wetness, but
she just continues confessing.
She will not stop confessing.
Would you please stop confessing, please?!
He doesn't want to know
the list of
names
dates
and exact locations,
only because he can't match her
sin for sin--
he has nothing to confess to her...
sin for sin--
In their love
he wasn't innocent
only without mystery,
without secrets,
without myth nor shadow
(so much worse.)
This ride
the pavement
the rain
her words
all of it is just happening,
all of it mixing together
and he can't tell anything
apart anymore;
not the road nor the wheels,
not the sky or the ground,
not the rain, nor the air,
not him or her...
And how did a joke about
strawberries turn into this?
He grabs her by the shoulders-
he tells her to look at him,
his face, his eyes, his lips,
to study it
every detail
to study it
hard
because you only
get one chance
to try and tell the difference
between each other.
He asks her
if she remembers him
if she remembers her.
She stares back as the rain
blasts against the wind shields,
the white streaks
of the headlights
of the pounding
semi trucks
coming right at them...
You stare at me and begin to move
your lips, but I can't hear what you're saying
between our heaving chest.
I can feel you breathing through my skin
again.
L.A. - 6/10/06
