We fight to the tingling of Raindrops keep falling on my head from a passing ice-cream truck.
I curse and yell in a language that is not mine.
“Where did you come from?” I ask, as if I did not know.
He read my call and turned his house into a pulsar.
He let the scars shine through his skin and summon me.
He came on a cloud of synchronicity, strewing galaxies from his pockets like marbles. Thumped his chest with specters from beyond the pale – the offer of a graceful bow-out, all the freedom I could want. I shook in my boots as I circled around his black wings but gave him that smarty-pants Joan-of-Arc look that said
I am not going anywhere.
He sees me in my language. I come from far away, and he is not of this world. Billy Pilgrim, unhinged in time, I, his inverse double. Aeons are Baoding spheres in his hand. I can stretch seconds into lifetime bubblegum strings before I chew them anew.
He asks if he can get into bed with me. Tells me he loves the way I kiss. His hands, throbbing with calluses, find me in the dark. The Scorpion tail is put to rest and wrapped around me in the softest lovers’ whisper. This magnificent beast has chased me and caught me. You with your New England ways in Old World skin, with ghosts pacing about in the middle of the night, with your uncompromising majesty of patient returns, tell me: am I your redemption?
Just love me.
I do. I do sleep with a dagger, because there is no greater honor in this world than watching over him. There is nothing light, simple or easy about us. We are egos, wit, and intellect. We are lust, tenderness, and pathos. Dragon Queen of this Nation of Two, I embrace my cosmic exhibitionist soul mate. I have chosen and claimed him. I crave him. I give in to his protection, and will never let him fall.