• Vol. 08
  • Chapter 11
Image by

And Then the Sun Broke Through the Clouds

You smiled at me and I teetered . . . on the edge of maybe.  I am suspicious of men who don’t blink.

I ponder the meaning of it all, the electric moment.  I ponder whether I should stop pondering the meaning of it all.  

Sometimes, there isn’t one.  And words cannot transcribe what instinct always knows.  My body is live with conduction.  But look,

I have battle scars and war paint, see?  And this is not really a mask.  I’m just hiding in plain sight.  

I see that you do understand.  For you are hiding in plain sight too.  And I catch a scent of something pure about you, like

the moral of a story.  Like an orange knitted together from sun, earth, wind, rain.  Eating it would be like eating a piece of the sun.  Imagine that?  Sweet tang sun.
You are both vision and shadow blur.  This tells me you are real.

But you lay down your arms and invite me to give it my best shot.  Which makes you win.  Already.  How could you?  That was my move.  Now I must comply.  


And Then the Sun Broke Through the Clouds

A costume opportunity provides armour.  It is a time for masks but also for unveiling.  You are summer dressed as midnight.  I am winter dressed as desert.

Nothing is still though it appears to be.  There is geometry between us.  We balance a scale somewhere.  

And yet time is short and soon one of us will slip-steal away into the music.

You can be whoever you want to be.  And I’ll believe you.  

I want to believe you are he.  And I am she.