T H E E N D
The car grips the road a little tighter.
It’s probably just my hands on the steering wheel,
Squeezing harder as my mind races.
You’re here.
Your arm not seven inches from mine
But between us, a gulf of uncertainty:
a gulf so wide and so deep, to tread into it
would mean disaster.We’re alike, you and I.
Brothers? No, more than that, if you can imagine.
You speak, distracting me from my thoughts
but it’s a pleasant distraction. Your voice
washing over me like brown silk in the wind,
moving to my ears and enveloping my mind.
I hang on your words, basking in your essence. Afraid to let go
and lose this moment forever.It’s a cool, clear August evening.
The stars look down on us as we speed
through the countryside.
I have so much to tell you,
but I can never seem to do it.
Your eyes, your smile.
If I told you… would you ever
smile at me again?The car rolls to a stop, and I turn to face you.
It’s time I told you.
You have to know.
Stuttering, I search for the words. I pause.
Your hair is wild, untamed: free
like the wild bronco running on the plain.
Your eyes hold mine: big, brown, like the moist earth
that gives you life.You place a hand on mine.
That doesn’t help…
I look down, and suddenly the words arrive,
pouring from my mouth like so many atom bombs.
Looking up, I meet your gaze. Fear. Sadness. I know you see these things in my eyes.
Why won’t you respond? Smile. Say you understand, that it’s alright.
You turn away. I crumble.-August 9, 2000
