A Dance Of Rhythm and Rhyme

He sighs and shakes the can of spray paint vigorously. It is a sheer drop down to the busy highway below, and the suspended rampart he stands on swings madly in the wind. The longer he thinks about it, the longer he would have to think about it. He starts spraying:

Spray my brains

Spray my soul

Spray my heart

Across this wall

For life was once

Sunshine and gold

But is now

Drudgery and cold

Mark me love's latest victim

Joy drawn, quartered, and sold

She sighs and brings her goggles down over her eyes as the plane begins to make its ascent. It is a clear blue sky on a clear blue day. The longer she thinks about it, the longer she would have to think about it. The plane begins to make complex maneuvers that involve dives, somersaults and loop-the-loops as it trails great billows of cloudy smoke to form fluffy cotton letters in the sky:

My heart flutters like an old bird

Like an old bird in flight

Old age is second childhood

With second childhood's delight

But my heart is weary and battered

Its battered wings alight

On forlorn distant isolated shores

Isolated in heartbreak's night

They both reminisce fondly of the good old days. A couple of cool kids doing cool things. Surfing the mile high tsunamis of the mind's eye. Ascending those breathtakingly high peaks of fancy, and then jumping off the cliff. Suspending disbelief for a fraction of eternity.

Those were the good old days:

H: Bikes and leather jackets on the beach

S: Riding pillion on the streets

H: Roaring at the seagulls at our feet

S: Flying through wind and rain and sleet

H: Playing songs that miss no beat

S: Dancing to mad rhythms of the feet

H: Playing the devil in between the sheets

S: Screaming to wild rhythms in our heat

How had it all begun? That awkwardness of first meetings. That initial trepidation, anxiety, butterflies in the stomach, worst case scenarios and best case scenarios. Nebulous times.

She in her dress picked from so many other dresses. Pair of earrings shining gold. Heart in mouth. Storm in head:

Who is he where is he when is he

Coming to the bar

Tonight

How is he I'm dizzy

No time for dinner

Bread and cheese winner

Hope he orders well takes charge

Shines in armor in

Lamplight

He in his lucky shirt, considered lucky because that one girl in high school thought it looked good on him many years ago. Hair slicked back. Strong odors of cologne and Brylcreem:

Man to Woman

Woman to Man

Charm, flirt, and make her laugh

With my humor deadpan

Breathe in breathe out be cool

Dazzle her in the span

Of breath it takes to say

Oh baby you're my Roxanne

They danced the delicate social dance of niceties and good behavior. Restrained selves. Restrained longing for big spoon in the night. Conversations blurring by in a flurry of drinks. Move to ice cream place. Close in for the kill, he thinks. What's he planning? She speculates:

Well it's been a nice evening

Hanging out with you

Hm? Yes it has I'll be ordering my Uber now

Plenty of things to do

Have the last of

This ice cream will you

Nah I'm good I'll get-mmffff... melt into a kiss

Like flowers in the morning dew....

Fast forward to eternities later and big spoons little spoons on sleepless nights. Fights for the blanket morphing into crazy copulation:

What are you up to my puppy my bunny

My sweet pineapple pie?

Oh nothing thinking sweet nothings utterings

Riding this love soaked high

What are you planning what are you cooking

My handsome hunk my saucy guy

Oh just baking sweet cakes blending milkshakes

Letting some fresh cod fry

But every peak is followed by a trough and life is a pitiless sine curve. Perhaps that is a cynic's perspective... But we'll find out soon enough:

But you said that she said that

He said that thus is so?

Well I did but what I meant was

Gibberish gibberish oh no

And what of you and your machinations

And your schemes that dealt a blow?

Don't raise your voice at me

Your insecurities are all aglow

Well perhaps if you weren't so selfish

This argument wouldn't grow

Well perhaps if you weren't so lazy

This lawn wouldn't need a mow...

Navigate back to now.

He lowers himself carefully onto the ground, for even a heartbroken life is precious. He strolls to the beach and eyes the pliable sand and all the shapes he can trace on it, and all the thoughts he can give shape to:

Perhaps if

I wasn't such an ass

Behaving so

Uncouth and crass

I wouldn't

Have lost my lass

Perhaps perhaps perhaps

She lands the plane with gentleness and grace. It taxies casually to the other end of the beach. She jumps out and eyes the tracks the plane has left in the sand, and all the thoughts she can trace there and lay bare:

Maybe if

I wasn't so taciturn

Letting my

Thoughts and feelings churn

Having them

Build up bubble and burn

I wouldn't

Have heartbreak earned

Maybe maybe maybe

They have been moving towards each other from opposite ends of the beach.

Unwittingly.

Inexorably.

It has been a sunny day with clear blue skies so far.

But they finally eye each other from a distance.

Heavy grey clouds move to cover the sun now. There are whispers of a storm on the horizon.

They begin to close the gap tentatively, etching words in the sand with their feet, their movement determined by the shape the words form. A graceful dance choreographed by the shape of their thoughts.

The cloudy sky rumbles portentously:

H: Do you remember the good times: the chimes, the rhymes, the wines?

S: The crazy times: in your arms, my charms, in barns. So many yarns

H: Would it be so crazy then, to give this another shot?

S: We could take it steady now: not a gallop, a careful trot

Cue thunder in the background. The wind whips strands of long raven hair around her face:

H: I shall endeavor to be a better man, failing which you can smack my head with a pan

S: I shall strive to be a better lady, openly communicative thoughts less shady

H: Learn I shall from the mistakes I make, every Sunday bake you a cake

S: Share I will in your hopes and dreams, on naughty days lather you up in cream

They are so close to each other now that they can hear every intake and exhalation of the other's breath. Their lips part and close over each other as lightning flashes in the sky, followed by deep rumbling thunder.

Their bodies make poetry that cannot be put into words as the heavy downpour drenches their light summer clothes.

But they are lost to the rest of the world...