Push Replay

Do you wonder what might have been?

Eight years later.
Metal band. Ruddy beard (Van Dyke). Extra tattoos to make it legit.
His face is familiar, but together we are out of context.
He thinks he still knows me.
My wicked breath in his ear,
                               I like to be bitten.

Sunrise recession, an escape back to Atlanta:
Salty with sins and the smoking gun of mouth-sized bruises across my chest, down my legs.

I think he expected some sort of love story. He wanted to sweep me off my feet.
I didn't want to be saved.
It should have ended there.
(But it didn't.)

xx

criminal

It was supposed to be a simple reunion -
    two old friends quietly taking solace in the infrequent luxury of being richly understood
    kindred spirits content to walk about in the candor of daytime shadows

How was I to know he would pour his heart out to Laila the night I introduced them?

He's in love with you! she laughed with wide eyes. Like... madly in love. 

What had I done?

Crazy Making

As luck would have it, 

fate was cruel.

Departing like vectors,

their sacraments and separations

parallel

did compose deceptive serendipity

and spurious connections.

_________________________

He practically booked a plane ticket the night I told him what S.B. had done. 

AC/DC

Mike strummed an amplified version of the Bridal Chorus at my request. He watched from the periphery with the guitar balanced on his thigh. After we said our vows, there was an enthusiastic mixture of chords and electric melody, airborne right along with white flowers and cheers.

I've not a single picture of myself with Michael on my wedding day.

S.B. and I left for a two week honeymoon in Greece while Mike got married the following Saturday to a girl named Megan. She was a lifeguard and practiced American Sign Language over dinner. She went to school for certification in Special Education. I didn't make it to their wedding, but from photos I remember the distinct and awkward tan lines plunging upwards from her strapless gown.

We are all liars.

Michael: Lulu, I'm sorry. 
Michael: Don't ask me to explain it, just know that I am sorry.
Received @1:18 am


I guess I'm not even going to ask.

---

I haven't talked to Mike since last fall, when I sent him a text message on the long drive home from Toronto. Of course, text would not convey how sobbing tears blurred the midnight traffic while the night weighed down empty and endless. Why was I crying?

Me: Its a shame that our friendship is ruined.
Me: I could really use a kindred spirit right about now.
Michael: It's not ruined.
Michael: You know you can always talk to me.
Me: But I won't. We won't. I'm just sorry, that's all.

We went to high school together but weren't friends until college. His apartment was near the highway and we used to stay up all night on Flaming Dr. Pepper shots and Metallica. A pyramid of Keystone cans displayed on the end table near the front door. Rooms littered with computer parts and guitars. My best friend Jennie was secretly in love with him, but I was the one who slept with him years ago - the night after he broke up with his girlfriend. Jennie never found out.

I wonder sometimes if he didn't just stay suspended there, not knowing how to forget.