oh, the 3D

There’s that girl again. That friendly girl with those knowing eyes. You shift uncomfortably in your stool. There’s something almost pushing you out of your seat to go talk to her. But god you love staring. You love watching her from across the bar. Watching her laugh with anyone who approaches her. She catches you staring sometimes. You both smile. She looks away but she doesn’t bother pretending you have. She’ll glance at you randomly and smile. You’ve nodded her way a few times. You’re a regular at this bar. And so is she. On the day she’s wearing black eyeliner, your feet walk you towards her and you take a seat. Her face immediately softens. But you’re looking straight ahead. Clasping your bottle. There’s a long, still moment. It tastes bittersweet. It doesn’t matter who started talking first. It was something smooth. Something like jazz. Something like fucking her in the shower. You can imagine road trips with this girl. Rolling paper with this girl. She’s your rock band babe. Your anything-you-want-her to be. You can almost write a song about watching the stars with this girl. Music sounds differently with her. So you push the bottle aside and you somehow lead her to the dance floor. You don’t really know how that happened. Or how your knees are keeping you standing. Time is slower with her. It’s like every pore of your body is wide open. Like you’re one big pore? Getting high is different with her. Life feels like a fucking lullaby. You feel like moving to Jamaica. You feel like watching her dance all night. You feel like dripping wine down each other’s lips. You feel all of this before it actually happens. In that still moment at the bar. So you swish your teeth with the beer before you take a sharp inhale. You can already feel the spiral downward. The point where you quit writing because meaninglessness has just interrupted and introduced himself. He hits you like a truck. You feel the gut-wrenching rollercoaster drop of your first heartbreak. That same lonely realization. That reminder you are within a complete separate bubble. That no matter how hard you try to connect with this girl, or reconnect, you’re both frustratingly confined to different intersections of space and time. You can’t help the triangles that appear when your fingers touch. All that math floating around you. What a beautiful tragedy. Like how all the actors look like puppets. How lifeless. What a mockery. How still you’ve become. How quickly time passes you. You see shiny things dull before they actually do. So you sigh. So you look at her. Her face shows you everything going on in your stomach. You begin to nod together. Shaking your heads feels good. Relieves a little bit of that aftermath tension. You do trust her. Her lips calmly curl upward. She shows you all her teeth. Slows down the tempo. You can suddenly hear the loud music in the bar again. You can suddenly feel everyone’s presence in the bar again. Your eyes never leave hers. She knows exactly what you’re thinking. She laughs. Her laugh takes you to a middle school sleepover with your middle school buddies. Words take you fast through conversations with her like it did with your  buddies. So you grab her wrist. The vein in her neck pulsates. Suddenly she grabs yours. You look down just to feel a jab in your neck and her wrist is free. She warns you not to mess with her. You laugh. You can almost cry. You feel every paradox. In love and indifferent. Somehow excitement of the moment turns into doom when you realize it has passed. Every moment you have is every moment you lose from the future. Somehow you see your entire life flash in front of your eyes and you’ve turned grey. Your body feels heavy. Grounded. Almost like if you both stay seated in that corner of the bar long enough, you’ll eventually turn into trees together. That must be how it happens. Fifteen years pass. And she has her head resting on your shoulder during a long train ride home. She slowly wakes up and the first thing her lips do is find yours. She’s all you can feel for a second. Her curves and her love. Damn. How’d that happen? You know her answer. She tells you all the time. We must have woken up in a new dimension that day. The both of us. That that type of electricity is god’s energy. How it’s still staticky between our fingertips. 

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