Au Revoir Simone – All or Nothing
If each star were a moment and I could pluck them from the sky, scorching. Pull the skin raw from my palms like the peel of an orange. Citric acid lodged beneath my nails, stinging the cuts of my cuticles.
If the heavens were a destination that we could reach on a long weekend, your hands on the wheel and mine on the volume knob queuing up a song. The kisses that taste like the heavy cream of kept promises on our whiskers. Sandpaper tongues between our fingers and the fur that tickles the dark caverns of our lungs.
If I could shrink you, put you to rest in one long note, the best part of a song that never ends. Black dots detaching from a scale and floating in the anti-gravity of my imagination. I would keep you safe. I wouldn’t bury you in the still tomb of the earth; I would release you, dandelion, let you step in quiet percussion—the dance of a single seed in the breeze.
We are all hitchhiking through space. Invisible thumbs to the cold air, an act of kindness, a show of faith. This life is a constellation that we can’t make out yet, a pattern we can only follow one faintly marked line at a time. All of our molten bodies that collide into accidental choreography, searing symbols into history, images into the deep folds of our minds.
We are all fireflies burning brightly in somebody’s sky; we, all of us, find ourselves trapped in glass jars from time to time.
If I must be the insect beating my tiny wings into walls then you be the jar. Smooth glass that curves around my struggling form, embracing me even as I bruise myself. And if you can’t be the jar then be a firefly, too. The two of us twinkling, blinking in and out of existence.
Two small cinders in the dusk, caught. A couple of stars scooped from the sky.