Ah! Love!

Since Love seems to be in the air ...

Autumn had leafed its way to summer. Laughter was wine, smooth on my warm palate made me tipsy with a carefree abandon. A delicious cocktail of parched earth, smell of imminent rain, the musk on his skin, sultry seduction served in salted sweat-soaked evening.

Holding hands was exploring new terrain; the undulations, the smoothness, the roughness, the coarseness, the softness, the bronze and the ivory. The questioning knuckle on the alien palm, the tips of the fingers exploring the gaps between the fingers, the massaging thumb salving the enticed skin entwining in a sure firm possessive paralytic grasp.

Pain was a relief to the security of belonging. Reassurance sought from silent painful sense-screaming squeeze. We fell in love with the idea of love and we love it. We grew into a comfortable “well-worn sneaker” love with the initial blisters scarring to hard callouses. The tingling thumb on those callouses retro-rocketed into the oblivious past. Grim images of ill-fitting shoe bites, bleeding blisters that refused to heal and the whiplash weal. Designer “sneakers”, however ill fitting, were meant to be worn till worn out. Our feet still bore the crosses of our “sneakers' still adorned our feet ”comfortably numb”!

Sonar silences were interpreted in receptively radar-entwined digits. Not a word was spoken. We listened to our minds, unmindfully filtering redundant perceptions, exhaling them into the sound-saturated scents of sense and sensibility. Love had a no-nonsense, naughty nuance of being totally obsessive, supremely subjective and delightfully droll.

The world snivellingly sniggered, caustically contemptuous of our imposed ignorance of their intangible taunts. Love made us sweetly stupid and stoically sane all at the same time. Our sanity transcended reality and the perceptible precious present was a gratifying gift. A gift to two wandering, wondering wonderful wisps - a wistful witch and a wretched wizard. That is the way the wronged world perceived us.

This margarita was new to me and yet I have tasted it a hundred times before. I was slowly sucking it from his lips running my lips on his salt-laced lips. The world greeted us with wolf-whistles, cat-calls an chortles to curdle your blood. There was a fine line dividing jealously and envy. The world was jarringly jealous. We continued drinking.

I managed to steal a surreptitious glance at the malevolent malicious moon marking the existence of a nether world. I smirked and suddenly the moon hid behind the starlit counterpane, afraid of its own existence. I held the universe in my arms — the sun, the moon and the stars!