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September 13, 2005

D: Reflections

The mirrors distort us grotesquely, twisting us into warped reflections of ourselves. My eyes see her, squashed and stretched, torn asunder and I wish that the image was reality. As we leave the hall she won't take my hand. She refused my kiss on the Tunnel of Love. The cotton candy didn't sweeten her any. My prowess with the hammer did not impress. The bear I won for her is carried like luggage. She's had a wonderful time but can we just remain friends?

When we get to the highest point on the Ferris wheel I shall push her out.

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Comments

With the musky scent of her cotton candy lingering in my throat I fished in a pocket for the keys. Anoushka's fingers brushed my knee, gently reminding me we should investigate the tunnel of love before the westering sun marked our return to home, facing the sitter and the ducks and sheep. A throaty horn brayed in the throng below us, answered by laughing shouts. The great wheel twitched, and she gripped me, suppressing a shudder. Our world lurched and rocked; wires, bolts, girders thrummed; people in the other gondolas laughed and shrieked. Suspended, we ached and hungered and fed.

Posted by: David March at September 13, 2005 7:33 AM · Permalink