Turbulence

I keep having this reoccurring dream. We are flying together, the destination irrelevant, what was important is that we were together in it. And then we are crashing. We make our way to the cockpit to see if it’s actually true, clinging to each other. Saying, “trust me trust me trust me.” But we do not cry. I can see fear in the reflection of the glass..I can see the earth coming at us in a blur as if some great wind is ripping a poster off of a telephone pole. That’s what I remember. That it didn’t seem real. But I could feel the friction as we nosedived through the sky, picking up momentum as gravity shouldered us towards the ground coming up to meet us. I remember feeling like I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready for everything to go black.

It’s silly really. I knew your name in passing. Here you are at my door and I hardly know what to do with that feeling, that plummeting. I told you I wouldn’t write about you. But you see, it’s how I pinch myself to make sure it was real before you never come back, before that ground comes up to meet us.

I’ll white knuckle it all of the way there and remember how your knuckles felt on the back of my neck and how your hair felt on my stomach, and how you tastes like nothing and everything at the same time.