Let’s go somewhere together.
Somewhere faraway, forbidden. Let’s let it be a secret. Our travels will be difficult and our rewards vast.
Let’s go to Havana and walk the worn, potholed streets, letting the boisterous Caribbean Spanish wash over us. Our conversations will be private, coded.
Let’s wander down too-narrow alleys lined with grates and flowery window boxes. Press me against the cement and lift my dress. Let me feel your urgent desire.
Let’s stop and stare at the sea, watching the waves pound on the sand. I want to sit with you on a patio clouded with hazy sweet cigar smoke and drink rum. The music will be strange and alive, slowly throbbing. I want your shirt mostly unbuttoned and your hand up my dress.
Later, I want you to fuck me in tune with the drumbeats.
I want to be with you in the harsh reality of children shrieking and paint-chipped old churches. I want to stand with you under the blazing sun and know you. I want to be a fugitive with you.
Let’s come back to Memphis. Just the two of us, no kids. Let’s stay out late drinking crummy beer and listening to good music in the steamy summer air. Let’s stop only for urgent, noisy hotel room fucking. Let’s sleep in. Then let’s do it all over again.
From afar, I approach the white rocks. Millions of years have given them permanence. Their crags and juts set them off against the burning blue sky. As I approach I stare at the sun, feel it stealing my sight. When I am blinded, I turn back toward the rock.
In the shadows collecting in its base I pause, feeling the coolness at my front and the heat at my back. In the silence of its immensity I can feel my thoughts clamoring like birds overhead.
Reaching the strong white face of the rock is much like my experience of you. I place my hands against its curves, previously hidden but so obvious up close, so sensual. Heat pours off, into my skin. I press a little harder and the rock is all resistance. It’s not going anywhere. It’s certain.
I could hit the rock, pound on it, and it would still refuse to move. It can withstand my anger and my doubt, like you. I don’t bother asking why. This rock makes me sure of everything. This rock that is you.
/ Tags: Travel