I shut the door tight behind me, I hear the wind and rain howling a way.  I close my umbrella and shake it out, getting drops of water on the cheap linoleum floor.  I remove my sopping wet jacket and place it on the wood coat rack.  My rain boots squeaking as I approach the reception desk.  Before I reach her she gestures to the sign that reads: Please Take a Number.  I reach out and grasp the white ticket hanging from the small red contraption underneath the sign.  I let out a slow sigh as I know my number is quite high and won't be called for quite sometime.  I look up and notice the crowded waiting room.  The fluorescent lights flickering for a brief moment.  I spy an empty seat near the window and squeak my way over.  I sit down and get in a comfortable position to watch the storm brew in all it's ugliness.

  The blue eyed boy seated next to me remarks on the weather, he too is dripping wet.  I smile and he agrees that is riveting to watch, lightening flashes illuminating our young, awe-struck, glistening eyes.  They truly meet for a moment, creating more young wonder.  We laugh and talk for hours on end, playing little games, making time fly.  We almost don't want our numbers to ever be called, but the numbers climb higher.  We make friends with the elderly man in plaid, a woman to our left who sits upright with a cat in her lap, and a small fair haired boy across the room.  We never spoke to the boy only made him giggle by making ridiculous faces and crossing our eyes.  

I look at the clock and then back to my companion.  The fluorescent lights flicker and I notice my soul mate has grown wrinkles around his now deep blue eyes.  I touch my own face to feel my own laugh lines, feeling a twinge of pride.  He captures my hand in his and motions to the door.  My number lights up red on a black screen, the screen to left lights up with his number as well.  We get up stiffly and slowly shuffle our way to the door, our hands intertwined tightly in anxiousness.  This moment is what I had forgotten I was waiting for.  I grab the cold, metal handle and turn the **** with my aching hands.  Relieved we no longer must wait, we walk through the door together, into oblivion.

Sitting parked,
Looking in the rear view mirror I see a train,
Your high as ****,
Waiting to be safe and sober,
Hoping that I'm not too much of an idiot,
Listening to radio ****,
But I'm so high doesn't matter, any beat will do,
**** this streetlight suddenly flickers suddenly reflecting,
The cold rain on my damp paper,
It flickers again and the train whistle blows,
Making the pages yellow, sephia, mixed with rain,
Making the words ever so elegant,
Looking out my windshield,
~please flip to side B~
Seeing waves, combined with hard wind and rain,
Making the polluted, sedimentary Fraser River,
Appear like syrup,
A thick, slow, smooth, liquid,
When do I leave this place?
I watch the sky train go by,
Seeing foggy yellow windows illuminating the night,
Imagining myself as a passenger,
Just living life, going about my limited time,
Just doddling along...

Did you see the trees, the way they separate?
Did you see the air behind them, all oblong and jagged framed?
Each branch turning into another,
separating and connecting,  again and again.
Slow, complex growth.
It was natural progression at its finest.
and didn't you feel the way I looked at you?
or did you see it?  It was nothing.
No, it was something. It really is.
The way you are, the way we act,
How we want to act.
The little things I bring you , all those gifts,
they mean something too.
I could say it, but I try not to.
I said "I can't help but keep you in mind"
I meant to hesitate.
Everything I do, there's purpose behind it.
The feelings aren't complicated.
It's a situation,
far from ideal and clearly exciting.
It built up.
The tension felt like long years,
patiently watching in some sort of humble admiration.
But the way you do things, it's getting to me.
It's this appreciation,
for every cell, every action, and every opinion.
It's all so fascinating and it's been filling my head.
Thoughts tricking me in my sleep,
turning life into wondering days.
Your ways, should they be complimented by my ways?
Because, I always found this exciting:
not knowing, not doing,
never asking.
I thought maybe it's enough, what it is.

But for an instant, everything changed.  
Passion and desire took physical form.
The experience, the moment,
it was fast and intense,
and that reveal has wrapped itself around me ever since.
Apprehensive ways were filtered into something else.
Bad undertones, caught in the strainer and set aside.
We could be so innocent,
and we can enjoy what's been neglected.
A mutual leap, hand in hand.
Hands strong and without hesitation,
moving your skin like raw clay,
pushing, clenching.
Comparable to a surgeons precision.
Confidence backing every movement.
Fluid, and naturally rough.
Rough, like the way I pulled your hair.
Precise, like the way I bit your neck.
It was exactly where you'd have me.
Almost harder than you'd ask.
Face to face. My lead.
Me against you.
Your back against the wall.
A strong and careful force,
moving my left to grab your throat,
while the right falls at your ready hip.
The spot I've been dying for.
It's just the way they look.
Smooth skin over hard bones.
Smooth skin that leads into your jeans,
and travels up into your shirt.
Places I shouldn't go,
but there you are, and I see how you feel this.
It feels like you want it to feel.
I feel that way too.
Excitement is at full throttle,
yet, overall comfort is keeping me steady.
A grip on your hip pulls you in closely,
face to face, lips touching lips.
Not just touching, but for the first time.
Not kissing, but desperate to.
That feeling revealed.
This is what it's like, and this is what it sounds like.
Your voice, only raspy air.
Sort of like a whisper.
Not words, but sounds of enjoyment.
Warm breath meeting mine.
Exchanging.
Feeling control, then lightning strikes.
You playfully bite my lip causing me to exhale.
Caught off guard
Completely high off you and the way you feel.
At the peak of an experience, almost overwhelming.
Everything led up to that moment,
and if I could have stayed there, I would have.
It was too much and it was not enough.

Playing at this empty calm,
Faking Simplicity.

Deepening hysteria,
Mesmerizing calamity,
Chaos abreast.

Hurricane destruction,
Twister tearing down,
But fake calm anyway.