all i could rememver was the emotional toll it had on me. the bkank state of mind that she had. the sweet essence of her gentle perfume. the long, flowing waves of her hair in the wind. the kind taste of her lips as they kindled mine. there was only one special spot in this entire ecosystemic city that we prefered to be. not necessarily because of the privacy, but because of the way this place acted as a window. a window that allowed us to experience the life of the city; the heartbeat of the lights, the peoplem, the music. thats what we loved the most. this place was a window because it protected us from that heartbeat. it gave us a chance to hear our own heartbeats as one. it used to seem that way for me at least.
passion avenue was the street i lived in before it happened. it was a lonely street. it existed under the majesty of the subway train, and next to it- on the sidewalk- was old man Johnson's dinner. he was as old as anyone recognized him to be. my old two bedroom apartment on the top floor of the outcome building, was all i had now. it awlways rained here in the city. nobody knew why. i loved it though. the sound of the million and one water dropplets as they exploded on the cold concrete was my sound. hers was the life of the city. the loud metalic cry of the iron monster as it passed by my window, faster than the eye could notice. the musky aroma of the steam as it reguvinated the pores of anyone who passed by the sewage openings on the sidewalk. that was her sound. the city, in all its glory and majesty was our open field. the lights of the many buildings and stores, malls, hospitals, rooms, closets, offices, work rooms, living rooms, resturaunts, clubs, dinners, and classrooms, and electric rooms, museums, and hotels. it was all our guides, our own faces of warmth. our signs to find ourselves if we got lost. i remember the looks on other people's faces as they watched us run side by side, or towards each other. they thought we were immature delinquents, im sure. but they did not understand what our heartbeats learned from each other/ that night especialy, in my room when our hearts mingled with each beat as they began match and become one. that is what they did not understand. but i don't blame them though. who am i to judge other hearts that haven't gone through all the sufferage i went through. i kind of respected them for it, but their stories arte no business of mine. this is true.
