June 08, 2004

Tina is saintly. She forgave my trespasses (I once wanted to eat her pet), and today she smilingly endured hours of ceaseless raving after I gulped down two cups of coffee and started talking about lost loves.

“That girl sent shivers down my spine whenever I sat next,” I said. “She cracked all of her bones systematically! Her knuckles, her spine, and the base of her neck would all crack, and I was amazed her body could make those sounds!”

“Are you equally amazed by other bodily sounds?” Tina asked.

“I never heard bodies rubble so shamelessly,” I confessed. “And because I loved the sounds she made, I one day gave her a half-withered rose that encapsulated bodily love and decay. That’s when she ran into the wilderness to plant trees.”

Tina laughed, and because I had coffee in my mouth I spilled it out of my nose. If she didn’t know better she would think me mad, especially after I told her that tomorrow I’m drifting towards Toronto on a strong breeze through thunderstorms and blistering heat.

“What’s in Toronto?” she asked.

All of my loves are in Toronto. There I’ll find Zorianna and her sleepless nights, Zorianna who’s wonderful in every way and craves cradles of flesh and rivers of wine. And Trevor, who’s pale and intense and burning with longing.

That’s reason enough to rush into town with thunder under my heals, and spend days and nights consumed by the fire in my belly. If I’m not mad yet, Toronto will be the thing that finally cracks me.