Honea Express

And when the weight was heaviest the longest breaths were drawn and savored and exhaled like the spit of a thirsty man. The pressure was on the chest and maybe a knee to the stomach. It was a dance between two partners with one oblivious. It was the weight of the waiting and the lack of air left me drunk and grasping for distraction.

Things are in the mail and whispered in the dark and you know what they are. They are knives across my tongue and a mouthful of salt and vinegar.

It is a courtship. It is the wooing. This is high school and college and nights by phones when phones couldn’t follow you everywhere.  These are nights of songs replayed and too many notes soaked with sweat and a spray of Obsession. These are the nights we’ll laugh about when our ship comes in, and the stars will be the brightest they have ever been.

I need sleep. I need coffee.  I need to sign on a dotted line and throw my head back in tears and laughter. The waiting is the hardest part and the weight will find me sore come morning.

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