I am engulfed in a sea of late-night tourists and last-minute shoppers.
Latte in hand, I search for your face.
I find you hiding your habit in an alley around the corner.
“Cancer kills,” I remind you with slight contempt.
"We have 3 minutes to be on the bus and a 15 minute walk,”
you say, changing the subject.
As we cross the bridge I try to imprint in my memory this night view.
The falls are dancing under brilliant colored lights,
like a liquidated rainbow suddenly gripped by gravity.
The stars are out and easily visible,
even despite the glowing strip of tourist attractions behind us.
The water is loud, crashing down and rolling beneath us.
For the first time this summer, the air is cool from northern current.
I cannot tell if that's why I have chill bumps.
I stop to fish the change out of my pocket.
"Won't need these anymore," I shrug and toss them over the railing.
The 8-second descent glitters the coins in chromatic light.
"Come on, we're already late," you remind impatiently.
All of a sudden,
you shove me up against the railing.
The only thing between me and a 200-foot fall is a piece of metal and your arms
.
You lean straight into my protesting eyes saying,
"I'm the only guy who's ever going to do this to you.”
Then you kiss me so hard I can smell your menthol nostrils.
My knees buckle and I drop the latte.
I feel like I'm falling
and I half expect to feel the plunge of icy water on my skin.
Then you lean back with a smirk on your face and declare,
"I kissed you in two countries at the same time."
My jaw drops as I turn around to read a plaque that says, "U.S./Canada Dividing Line."
I am thunderstruck, immobile, at a loss for words.
But fortunately fireworks begin to explode over Niagara, adding more bursts of color to the night sky.
It is like a kaleidoscope.
We don't pay much attention to them though, and we are definitely late to the bus. |
Submission Name: Firecracker Kisses
