The Wandering Mouth

We’re at a party. Strange and familiar faces hover around us, drinking and shouting. Cheerful music fills the air. The garden where we celebrate is lit up in bright colors. You’re having fun, drifting from one bottle to the next, from one taste to another, from one mouth to the next. People are waiting for you to push beyond the limit. Things are spinning out of control. The mood shifts. It’s no longer fun. The night grows darker. You fall, lying on your back on the grass, laughing with the others around you. Your top has slipped up, exposing more than you realize. I walk over, cover you, and pull you to your feet. It’s hard to tell if you’re laughing or crying.

You try to kiss me. I turn away, pressing your head to my shoulder. I love you very much, I whisper in your ear. Silence. I love you too, you answer quietly. Björk’s voice whispers, Your mouth floats above my bed at night, my own private moon. You nestle your head against mine, the faint smell of beer, salt, and cigarettes mingling in your breath. Hair to hair. Skin to skin. Pulse to pulse. Just because the mind can make up whatever it wants, doesn’t mean that it’ll never come true, won’t ever happen. Please, could I change that? I can feel your body against mine. Just because she can. This moment feels like the most important thing in the world.

Is that the right thing to do? Oh, I just don’t know. You turn toward me, your face close. Let me introduce one to the other. The dream and the real, get them acquainted. Introduce. A mouth to a mouth. Your face becomes mine. I taste your lips, your tongue. Your breath enters me, warm, filled with beer, salt, cigarettes, and a hint of loneliness. The dream and the real, get them acquainted. Maybe hope can win. Can I just sneak up from behind? I plead. Now please, can I kiss her? I shout. Is that the right thing to do? The void answers softly, Oh, I just don’t know. There’s a line there, I can’t cross it. I wake up, am lost, can no longer deny it.