June 21, 2005

It was 11 PM on a Sunday when you knocked on your friends’ door seeking refuge and a glass of water. You were tired, happy, and I was holding your hand. Your friends pushed a chair towards you and you sat down and told them that we’ve been walking for the last three hours. It happened like this …

I got back from a conference late Sunday afternoon, and asked you to take a walk with me at sunset all the way downtown. I was trying to be romantic. I said, “I have a scooter and it will take us no time at all.” You believed me and decided to come along.

You ran besides me as I swooped down hills on my scooter; I told you about Windsor and how badly my thighs hurt. Windsor does strange things to human tissue. The road got darker and birds flew over us just as the sun disappeared.

“So many birds,” I said.

“I know, they’re gulls,” you said.

“So many birds…”

“Yeah.”

“So many birds,” I said again and again until we were both laughing hysterically. “One day we’ll make a record,” you said. “It will consist entirely of you saying ‘so many birds’ and the sound of machinery.”

“So many birds,” I said.

We were still laughing by the time we reached the grocery store and bought a watermelon; I was thirsty and craved sweetness. “Do you have a knife,” you asked. “We’ll crack it on the asphalt in the cemetery and eat it with our bare hands.” “You can’t do that,” you said. “Sure you can — once it’s open you can shove your face right in there and devour the flesh.” “You’re crazy,” you said.

In the middle of the night we walked into the cemetery with a watermelon under our arms. I was afraid to crack it at first, but then I bounced it on the ground a few times until it split open. The watermelon smelt like sweetness and summer nights. I handed you a piece which you cradled in your hands as I shoved my face in my half of the watermelon, slurping and growling like an animal.

My fingers dug into the red flesh and in the dark it felt as though I was ripping apart organs from a cold, dead body. You sat and watched, afraid to touch your half. “Are you going to eat that?” I asked before grabbing it from your hands.

“It sounds as though you’re eating human flesh,” you said, mildly disgusted. Once I was done, I put my sticky hand in yours and we continued walking. By then it became clear we wouldn’t reach home for a long time.

We found my bike waiting for us near the train station. I offered you a ride, but I was clumsy and nearly dropped you on the ground. You rode my scooter to your friends’ house as I rode beside you; the night was fantastic and we were tired and thirsty.

Your friends enjoy scooters and tales of adventures. After we told them our story, we started the long hike back home; they still think we’re crazy.

“We could have taken my car,” you said. “I thought this would be faster,” I said. After four hours of walking I was tired, illogical, and horny. Once we got home, we took off our clothes in the garage and let the cool air brush over our naked bodies.

And after we came and you were dressed for leaving, you told me you loved me, and I was confused, shocked, enamoured — after making you walk all that way I figured you should have hated me at least a little bit.

Update: The wonderful Corwin turned my line into a real song — my favourite one yet.