Our bodies are just laying on the floor, our arms entwined at the elbow. Hot, sweating, nude forms pressed against the practically ancient cracked tiling. That was partially our fault. You had the cuts all along your back to prove it. We really should have fucked on the couch instead. That seemed slightly more stable, even if it was filthy. Not that it mattered where we went. Anywhere we go we'd be coated in the dust and filth that just accumulates in these places after a while. If it weren't for the APB, we could have got a hotel room. I cringe, another piece of tile is digging into my back, and turn, and the sight of your face makes me forget everything. We've been together so long, but no matter what's happening, your face can always catch me by surprise. I can find you anywhere, it doesn't matter how big the crowd. Like when we'd met in college. It was late, real late, and I don't know what happened. They say it was stress or drugs or whatever the hell people usually say when they try and rationalize something that was purely irrational. I took my Psych book and I set it on fire, every last little page. And I watched them blacken and curl with the alarm going off in the back of my head and then I threw it out the window. And just like that, I grabbed my jacket and keys and walked out with everyone else.

That's when I first saw your face. You, in those tight jeans with your hair all windblown, crouching under one of the trees in the smokers area to fight off the late fall wind. You, I approached, offered you a cig. Those cat eyes met mine. I was lost. Helpless. We didn't say anything. And then I started to laugh. Really laugh. And you were startled. And then you laughed. And we sat and we laughed until tears ran down our faces and we kept laughing even when everyone else had gone back inside. Then I took you to my truck and, basically, we fucked and fucked and drove away. Left everything behind. It took a few months to get up and go, but we weren't who we used to be, and time didn't matter any more. After that, we had our first debut. Television. We were on the 5 o'clock, 6 o'clock, 7, 9, 11'o clock news. Bonnie and Clyde, they said.

I pull you closer, into a kiss, and you tense but lean into it, your body on mine, our lips connected. You always talk about the way I smell, the way I taste, and all of those movies you watch. I'll always remember your eyes, your nose, your lips, the way your skin feels under my fingers, how this filth can do nothing but enhance your radiance as the tears run little rivers through the dirt caked on your skin. First, it was just the sirens but now, as you cling to me so hard I can't breath, I can't speak, I can just feel your heart thudding against mine and feel the floor shake as heavy boots thunder up the stairs.

You could get out now. You drove, I held the gun, I took the money, I did what I had to do. But you would never, and your broken sob breaks the silence of the room just before the door is kicked in and uniformed men with their little guns and little sticks and great big egos all full of power and hate grab you and pull you off, and your face is so helpless and broken and pained that it takes me a minute to realize I'm screaming at them. Words and phrases I don't even comprehend, I just yell and cry and fight to get to you but the cuffs are around my wrist and there are too many and take us off separately, in different cars. Intimidation through separation.

And I swear in the back of this car I'll have you back.

And I swear they will never take you away from me again.