an instantaneous, automotive love bubble

the guy had been tailgating me
the last ten minutes
his bonnet so far up my exhaust
I was practically sitting on it
I couldn’t take it any more
I stopped
he stopped
we sat there awhile
then both jumped out
and strode towards each other
and do you know what?
it was a beautiful thing
he said he was sorry
but he’d just been overcome
by a sudden and irresistible sense of connection
I smiled at him
I felt it too, I said
we both sat down in the middle of the road
to explore this wonderful thing further
the other drivers driving round us
shaking their adorable heads & fists
the sweet sound of sirens in the distance
what did we care?
we had stumbled into what I’ve since
come to understand
was an instantaneous, automotive love bubble
we sat there on the blacktop
stradling the double white line
gently stroking each other’s beards
mutually admiring their sheen and vigor
he ran his hands over my arms
nodded approvingly at the tone and form
I did the same – and – honestly?
it was like feeling myself
we talked about things we’d done lately
that made us cry
he said when he was ironing
some white polo shirts
and listening to Nick Cave;
I said when I woke from a dream
in which my dead father sold me a ticket for the ocean
he laughed as if it was the sweetest
saddest thing he’d ever heard
I appreciated that
a police car skidded to a stop behind us
we helped each other stand up
and held hands as the officers
approached, advancing with tazers drawn
‘Do you know I smell lavender?’ he said
suddenly glancing over at the verge
‘A little cloying, perhaps, but SO good for the bees’

 

IMG_0896

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s