100: Makeshift Security (Smacking Lips)

Published: March 7, 2020, 8:07 p.m.

I lean in and smack her lips with my own, grab her hand and start running down the steps. We stop running at the tracks and I start bobbing to MJ again. ‘Where are we going?’ She asks. Looking down the dark tunnel. ‘Is that where it comes from? Where does it go? I need to know Sage! I can’t just jump ship and leave everything behind because supposedly you are the love of my life. Suppositions are deadly. Let me explain.’
‘No!’ I scream, as I slap my palm on her lips. ‘Stop moving these things for five seconds P, would you. I’m dragging you out of this institution. Higher learning is all over this precious City, but it sure as hell aint here sweetie pants. Don’t let go of my hand. Let me show you.’
Red comes riding over heated metal, through the dark and right up to the platform we’re leaning over. We get on. MJ is singing on my little green speaker, promising invincibility. Every head turns. She tells me to turn it down. ‘Not everybody wants to hear your shit on this ride. We’re all stuck in here on our way nowhere. Have a little decency, would you?’
I grab her cheeks and kiss her hard enough. She forgets she was speaking. I turn the music up and start dancing. I dance up and down the cart. I swing from pole to pole. I’m bobbing my chin and smacking my lips like every piece of metal and every body on this train is mine. I sing along. I sing alone. I open my eyes. The music stopped playing. Everybody is staring. So I think of something witty on the spot.
‘Hey. Listen. I think you stopped dancing. When you did this, I think the body you carry around grudgingly started decaying. I think you started blaming it on age. But I know the magic of numbers, and that aint how death works. Numbers repeat themselves. They play all over the place to remind themselves that they have the power to contradict time. Your bodies’ wont die until you let them. I think you are a coward. Scared-y Kat! What are you so afraid of? Death? Ha! Says these dead eyes before me. I’m looking at death dead in the face baby, and she’s starting to grow on me. Fear a lifeless form instead. Fear fears itself and nothing else. Fear the voice that forgot it knew how to sing. I think you let go of my hand. I started singing and you became ashamed to behave how your nature yearns to be. Childlike. Free. I think when you let go of my hand your spirit jumped into my bones. I think your body abandoned us both. We’re doing just fine on our own. But you should know, we’ll never stop singing; we need you to always know where home is. We need you to wake the fuck up!’
She runs up and grabs my hand and pulls me off at the stop by the bay in Little Italy. She’s giving me that look, like I just fucked everything up.
‘What? It was free styling. I was on the spot. So I pulled some shit out of my ass, so what? What’s it to you? You can’t hear me. They don’t listen to voices that sound different. No one is paying any fucking attention to each other. Say whatever you want!’
‘Now what?’
‘Have you ever been on a three hour walk through the park at three in the morning. Everything is dead silent. I’ve never heard the birds sing so loud. A fog covers everything like a blanket. You’re seven and I’m five. I stick an old umbrella in the center so it doesn’t crash down on our tiny bodies. It’s a tent; we’re safe. It’s dark outside. It’s dark inside. ‘It’s cold, the grass is wet, wanna sleep out here with me?’ I scream. You try to slap me but you hit my makeshift sense of security instead and we’re swimming blind in baby purple sheets. I’m reaching for you. Your reaching for fresh air.’
In the year 1988, I saw the numbers 3, 7, 9, and zero everywhere. I had no idea what it meant until today. Now I’m waiting for a day that has already come to prove me right. It’s the day of a worldwide revolution. It’s the day she walked away. It’s the day she came home. Its this day. Its always this day. 
There is no other. Only you. 
Armed with my patience that yearns, like a bratty child, I wait.