Zero Hour

New York City. My intent is this; make a miracle happen.

I fly in. The plan circles and I imagine the floor coming undone from beneath my feet. There’s no thunder, but movies teach me that thunder is a supreme whether for a plane crash, but I’m on my way to see my baby. I’ve been waiting so long for this moment but I don’t know how to feel. Mission mode.

“Mission mode” She says. “I still love you, I’m just in mission mode.” I wait.

Three hours almost, more like one and three quarters and some change. My phone is dying. will she still be there? Don’t you remember? Yes.

I hold her and it’s just like the first time again. It’d been so long, I’d forgotten what it felt like to hold a person, let alone someone so utterly infatuating. She has my full attention and I stand to salute. the ring is in my tote. JFK Remember the smoking area. “I’ll kiss you properly later but I need a fucking cigarette.”

It’s cold. Her smile is beautiful but her touch. It’s what was missing.

Cab’s street lights, skyline. A dream is beginning. It doesn’t end too soon. We have time. Hotel bedroom. We understand eachother. I’d forgotten how well we speak our language. Magazines don’t write for us. We’re the reason why people need magazines.

Perfection by definition should be imperfect. “We are an axiom.”

This hotel is beautiful, but we’re not ready to have a kid, not quite yet.

ZDELI has internet access. It’s hard to tell which part is the restaurants’ name. Cigarettes. Christmas music. It’s the third place I’ve been to called Olympic Cafe’. That’s where I am. We fall asleep during the men’s diving. That was a long while ago. Five months we’ve been together.

We’re leaving the hotel now. Hilton Gardens, naturally. There’s something that needs doing first. She’s resistant but so am I. Just not today.

Metro, I buy us welches. It’s a drank not a drink. I spill it, it’s more expected than I expect. (Word play, it’s not always genuine.) Frustration it’s cold. Highline. It’s cold. I’m cold, She’s cold.

Subway, rockerfeller, tree, people, crowding, books, will you marry me.


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