and it wasn't as easy
as he hoped it would be
hands shaking
nerves breaking
he looked to the ground
fidgeted with the pieces of himself
he kept locked in his pockets:

(a 1987 Jetta car key, black Bic lighter, pack of Camel Lights, outdated and huge cell phone...)

his fingers found their way
around an old quarter
he always carried
ever since he was a teenager
it wasn't a collectors' edition
and the worn eagle,
the balding head of George
and the steady feel of cupronickel
always gave him strength

he raised his eyes
taking a deep breath from the brutal winter air
the alveoli annexing the oxygen
converting the remains to warm, humid
carbon dioxide infused exhaust
and he looked her square in the eyes
wandering blue eyes
that could blaze an ionized inferno
cremating the corpse of lesser wills

(and suddenly, the strength of the cupronickel was gone, floating in gases burned by a strength far greater than any dead white man or metal alloy could provide. real strength, not born from a totem relic, unencumbered by a need to be possessed)

and the cold air wasn't enough
anymore
and the worn down quarter wasn't enough
anymore
and he fidgeted and danced in half-dead shoes
'till he was in a full fledged jig
but she didn't smile,
and his legs gave up
and in desperation
he pulled a cigarette out
fingers feeling the familiar cylinder
packed full of his favorite poisons and flavors

(acetic acid, nonyl acetate, phenethyl butyrate, meta-dimethoxybenzene, para-dimethoxybenzene, 6-acetoxydihydrotheaspirane (6 being better than 2, of course), all the best ammoniums - bicarbonate, hydroxide, phosphate dibasic, sulfide)

he grasped for his lighter
spilling the other contents of his pockets
into the slushy snow that was freezing solid by the minute
and the air mimicked his insides,
temperature dropping
until all his vital organs stood still (organs don't have feet)
and his juices became funny color ices
and he hoped she would mistake him for an icicle,
even if an unkempt, disheveled and mildly charming one
but the inferno raged fiercer
and he defrosted
too quickly
his lips shaking
as the words fell out of their own accord
and despite his best efforts
his ears heard them

and he was utterly broken

"she's gone.."


and the inferno burned brilliantly blue, hotter than ever before
enough to melt frozen heart
in a second or less
it burned
and then became eyes again
now soft, the color of a young saturday
when only the sky matters
she grabbed his cigarette
flung it to the ground
and pulled him in close
warming his organs
while blue-green saltwater
held their cheeks together.