In Unison

I am trying to imagine us – you and me, in unison.

We fit together like two puzzle pieces, your jutting edge slides perfectly into my negative space. But I fear the remaining bits will never interlock. Our pictures are too different. (Me, a random weed in your urban landscape. You, the iPhone in my otherwise bucolic bliss.)

Even my fertile imagination cannot quite envision a realistic circumstance that would lead us to the possibility of shared environments. That spot where our pictures could mingle, where divergent histories don’t clash and the clutter of our respective baggage slips beyond relevancy.

And if, by some miracle, we found ourselves alone and unfettered, I’m still unsure you would hear the songs in my breath. Or after I’d leaned into your chest and let your fingers roam my geographies, that we would follow through and take or be taken.  Not when there is so much to lose. And no certainty of what might be gained.

Yet, I keep imagining us. You and me, in unison.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Proxy

Kiss her,
and when you do
will your eyes close as your tongue presses past those lips,
and though it is impossible,
will you taste me?


* Rebecca Gaffron is a sometimes writer, sometimes procrastinator and hopes she will be forgiven for both. She can be found at www.rebeccawriting.wordpress.com