February 9, 2003
Sucking My Brain Out
While I continue to think of driving as a necessary evil, I sort of love driving down 275 late at night, trance music playing loudly enough to shake the car, my foot resting alternately light and heavy on the gas pedal. I brake, sometimes, too.
I cannot help but almost always want to take his exit, just one past mine. I think of coming in, surprising him, I see him again as he was last Wednesday, all curled up in his bed with the blankets pulled all the way up to his chin and the television for company.
"I didn't think you were coming." He smiles, and when I sit down next to him he smothers me with his form and his smell and his bed sheets. "I missed you today."
I sigh, and find suddenly that fatigue and worry and barbeque sauce have fallen away from me, only one of which manages to lose itself on those navy sheets.
But that was not tonight. Tonight I should already be in bed, tonight my back still hurts without his hands to run expertly across it.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow I won't call but I'll come in, tomorrow there might be Halo and scrambled eggs and hot showers and pumpkin scented candles and idle occupations at 4:30 a.m...
That's not close enough to me, for now, not now when I am all weak and silly for him. The sooner I am to my bed, the sooner the sun and the sooner his arms.
astera at 11:13 p.m.