Suddenly Secondary Pt. 2

I told the girl with ocean eyes that she could ask about one of my tattoos each night when we lay in bed, by light only lit by the moon. I told her she could find an answer each night and never would she have two. I dangled temptation the way she swung her brightness in front of me, and I could sense the same yearning from her that I felt when laying eyes on her. She lay next to me clothed, nothing short of sexual, but for the first time, I stopped myself. I contained the beast that lives within the confines of my body, raging loudly inside my chest. I tamed the devil in my bloodstream and listened closer to my marrowed angels. She traced them until she found the one she liked most, sketching it, following the protrusion, she studied the lines like braille, her eyes closed, feeling with her fingers, smiling softly in the half-light.

           What is this one?

The air was still inside the home I hope to share with her, the air calm and devoid of even the slightest zephyr, everything at peace underneath a blanket, her body pushing against mine, a whisper of breath, and the soft caress of her other arm against my chest. I felt the palm of her foot slide slowly up my shin and back down again, feeling a soft exhale against my neck and a softer inhale as we lay in the open air, in the openness of night. Dragging my left hand up her shoulder, I could feel her soul reaching out for mine, her soul lacking any doubt, lacking any doubt like the one mine had that night.      

Are you sure this is the one you would like defined?

I felt indifferent to my past as whatever poor choices I made previously led me precisely to her, and I was thankful to myself, if only for a moment. I felt like all the sins were washed away in a second, forgiving myself and dropping the baggage all at once. This woman, this creature, this apparition of an angel. I broke my stare against the ceiling and found her eyes looking long. My vision crashed into her corneas and suffused into them, completely becoming one, our souls meeting for the first time and parting never once again. 

           Yes, I’d like to know about this one.

I promised her one explanation each night, hoping she’d be intrigued by the number of pieces I’ve lost count of. I hope I’ll never run out of tattoos, and if I ever do, I’ll mark my entire body with more stories to keep her attention and wanting. I’ve lost track of the roads I’ve traveled and the memories I’ve kept under indecipherable code and key. The head I hang weighs heavy inside the embrace of a spirit so pure. I question if I can muster the demands at the gates of infinity,. It’ll be one, and I’m done. I’ve got fumes in the tank, but she fills me with such a strident propellent I think I could fly to the moon and back. A blue moon struck our town and tied me down, leaving me naked and bare like a wolf living on wilderness time.

This tattoo saves my life every time I look. This is the tattoo I branded myself with as a reminder that I’m not that man anymore, or at least the man I don’t want to be.

These boots beat up, these jeans so dragged and torn, this shirt so dusted and dark. How does such purity find any parts worth the salvage? How does a woman so clean look at my soul so dirty and think they’d like to be attached? Why not let me live in the shallow? Why not let me weather and fray away at the seams? What value is a holey soul in the Valley? Living so stricken, what value is a holey soul in the Valley? She didn’t look up at me she only stared at the tattoo, tracing it again and again until she spoke.

You don’t have to be anyone. I’ll still love you even in the dirt and the gravel, and I’ll love you still, no matter the man you choose to be. I know who you are; I only hope you see it too one day. 

I thought the Blues were too heavy to shoulder alone, and the heart I now carry in mine might be enough to wash the Blues away. It might be enough to melt the mountains in the rearview mirror with only the setting sun in front of us. I wanted control over myself, and all she wanted was me. We laid in a bed of my making, in a bed I won’t let break. 

Cover art: Country Dusty Road - Bob Hasbrook