Somewhere in the long line of parked cars at the drive-in, my love is with another man in the dark of a car with the subtly moving production of the movie screen light on their sun-drenched skin. I cockroach my way through shade and shadow to the still-warm tailpipe of his Oldsmobile and observe the lachrymal condensation weakly clinging to its cylinder, shivering with the movement in the car. I just know they're inside. I just know it.
I lift a peccant and dolorous eye to see the monster with two backs inside the lightly fogged two-ton can of treachery. Schadenfreude demands I stay. Prudence demands I leave.
I compromise.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
I like the last line! I like something I wrote and it's not inspired by a woman!
ReplyDeleteThe odds were so low.
I really like the description. Your choice of words are just awesome.
ReplyDeleteIt's written well. You already knew that.
ReplyDeleteHow does one compromise between going and staying?
I was wondering that. Please, do tell.
ReplyDeleteYour heart stays; your body leaves.
ReplyDeleteThe inverse would be much more pleasant, I think.
ReplyDeleteHuh. That makes sense, and that is also applicable to more than just the situation in this piece.
ReplyDelete