CARPE DIEM I said at his funeral
It's warm again. Well, warmer. No snow. The sky is still as crisp and
bright and clear and sharp and fierce and stunning as it hangs in black and
stars over Esperanza's driveway. You're laughing. We're walking out to a
green car. I'm laughing. We're laughing that kind of drunk laugh where
something is so funny you go on laughing about it for ten minutes and your
stomach hurts. You're a step ahead of me and lean on the car to face me.
I'm wearing a skirt, leather I think, with my lace-up leather boots, too.
The sky is still gorgeous. You're still laughing, kind of sighing in an
attempt to breathe. The full moon is so bright it's casting shadows and
your face is lit a brilliant gray and silver. I'm drunk and laughing and
walking clumsily toward you in my boots. Toward you. Your laughing subsides
slowly into more sighs. Sad. How sad you laugh. I can hear all your pain in
your laughter. I'm a step away from you. You're wearing a stocking cap.
God, your eyes are gorgeous. Your laughter melts into a silvery smile as I
continue closer. The moon is pouring. I take your stocking cap off. I want,
need to see all of you. Not next to me in a car. Not across a restaurant
table. Not in a room with other people there. No words. Your arm moves like
music and rests on my hip. Glad to know you are enjoying this, but this is
a completely selfish endeavor, my dear. I slide your hat down to your
shoulder. "Let me look at you," I smile, I say like a sleepy drunk. Your
smile changes. One wouldn't notice, but I can. It's now a smile like
crumbling walls. Like sleep. Like finding arms you know will protect you.
Like bending eyebrows and sagging hearts and eyes like gorgeous magnets
attached/needing/breathing what they hold. "I just want to look at you. All
of you." And I run the backs of my fingers over your brow, under your eye,
along your jaw, over your beard, under your chin, making new shadows, new
moonlight pouring in as they travel, your eyes closing occasionally, your
arms tightening around me, finding new gorgeousness every inch. You have
such long eyelashes. I'm touching you like you could break. I'm touching
you like I'm thirsty. Your arms wrap around me smoother and stronger, but.
. I can still feel you shaking. Stop shaking. Shhhh, beautiful. Please stop
shaking. I don't know how bright the moon is anymore, what color the sky
is. My lips are on the skin just under your eye. You press your forehead
against mine. Please, beautiful. Stop shaking. You kiss me in a similar
place. I can't stop running my fingers along your features, like maybe if I
touch you enough I can take all of you in, behold all of you, calm your
shaking and your bleeding heart, or truly appreciate how
Please, beautiful. Please.