the two of us sat atop the large brown
Cedar oak, staring out at a trail of cars
crawling like Ants towards a violent sunset,
heading directly into their Heat Death
of the magnifying glass.
The air felt tight like impending winter nights.
‘Do you ever wonder how two
shoelaces look like kissing nooses?’
You had asked me as our feet
dangled off the crooked branches,
lifeless limbs swaying in the breeze.
The wind didn’t care we were there
and the leaves continued to rustle.
‘Kissing nooses?’ I echoed back,
barely a whisper against the wind’s
unyielding history. I could barely see you
rubbing your fingers against the tree’s
‘Waiting for heads to fill them.’
‘One finger fits just the same.’
The last sliver of sunlight began
to pour into that unknown tomorrow,
and in that moment, we both wanted
to whisper the words ‘too short’
and ‘not enough.’
In the silence of the violet twilight
we both jumped.