This City is Killing Us (WIP)
This city is killing us. I’m certain of it as I brush the hair out of your eyes in the park. Your gaze squarely set on the skyscrapers surrounding us; enveloping us; consuming us. I chuckle at the thought of the two of us and take a drink of sweet tea.
My laptop sits on the corner of our blanket playing song after song. We silently listen to the swells and crashes of each. I gently hum along with a bar or two while I lay my head in your lap and you watch the taxis drive by, honking their horns and transporting their fares. I pick a blade of grass and tickle your hand with it. You laugh and lean down to kiss me.
“We should run away. Pack the car with the odds and ends of our life and run away. We could go from town to town and pick up random jobs and make money for the next gas tank. We should run away.”
I’d never heard you so excited without the aid of alcohol; without the aid of cocaine; without my aid. You seem more alive in this moment than I had ever seen you. You look into my eyes and I can feel you waiting for my response. I feel your eagerness to do something, but more importantly, that I be involved in what you wanted to do.
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