late night scribbles

I can’t sleep.

I can’t sleep tonight, I think in words that sound like an exhale.

I’ve been trying, but I just can’t.

It’s all because of you…

And I couldn’t be happier.

I’m thinking about being on a sailboat with you.

At night.

We’re not moving because there’s no wind.

We barely notice.

I’m holding your hand.

Finally I’m holding your hand.

We’re standing on the deck, looking skyward. Feeling small.

And lucky.

“There is something different about rural darkness,” I muse out loud.

“So many stars. Hey! Were you just musing out loud?”

“That’s the North Star,” I point out, leaning towards you so that our cheeks are so close to being so close.

“Sure.”

“That’s Mars.”

“Really?”

“Yup. And right over there, that’s Andromeda.”

“Cool.”

“And that one is… Twinkle Twinkle Little?”

“Ran out of star names there, did ya?”

“Perhaps so.”

“I’m not entirely sure what to make of you sometimes.”

“Thanks!”

“I didn’t say it was a compliment,” you say with a face that tells me it couldn’t have been anything but.

“Up until now you’ve dated guys you knew exactly what to make of. How’d thaaat work out for you?”

You turn towards town and take a sip of wine.

I can’t see your face in the rural darkness, but I know what it’s doing.

You’re respecting the moment, but you’ll get me back. Always.

I use my phone to find the bottle to refill your glass.

“What did people do before flashlight apps on our phones?” I ask the night.

“Use actual flashlights?”

“I’m not a huge fan of your tone.”

“You’re a huge fan of my everything.”

I find that hard to argue against.

I take a seat and lean against the cabin. You take a seat and lean against me.

I feel desperately sorry for anyone who isn’t me.

You’re inexplicably cold, so I debate wrapping my shirt or myself around you.

It’s a pretty short debate.

I hug you from behind.

The boat bobs. Your eyes droop.

I squeeze a little.

“This is my favourite time of the day,” you say in as close to a whisper as I’ve heard from you.

“Yeah?”

“It feels… pregnant with possibilities.”

“Yeeeaaah.”

“What’s your favourite time of day?”

“Well, right now feels like one of my favourite moments of my life… But I like mornings.”

“Blech.”

“I know… But when I first wake up… I’ve been dreaming about you. The world hasn’t imposed itself on me yet. I feel like I still have a little bit of poet left. It’s when I do my best writing and thinking.”

“I like that.”

“Good.”

“Mornings still suck.”

“Of course.”

As the night ends…

“Begging the sun for one more moment of moonlight…’ I quote.

“So that was a pretty amazing date,” you say.

“It really was.”

“Just so you know… I won’t be inviting you in. There’ll be no… you know.”

“I was going to tell YOU that.”

“Really?”

“Oh, love, I made sure not to bring any protection.”

“Is that so?”

“It is. You can check my pockets. Though if you start checking my pockets, I’ll probably wish I had brought some protection.”

“Of course.”

“Here’s the thing… I didn’t want to take the chance that you’d have a little too much wine and I’d say something perfect.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’m pretty adorable. And I can’t risk ever being a regret for you. I don’t ever want to be on a list you give to someone some day. I need to be special to you.”

“You are.”

“I think this could be something. Like a legit something. It’s really important to me. You’re really important to me.”

“Dammit. That was perfect.”

“Ehhh. That’s just the wine talking.”

“It was really sweet.”

“Thanks… I mean, I’d come in if you begged.”

You cackle charmingly.

Then you kiss me. You know, because of the adorable again.

And that’s why I can’t sleep.

Tonight.

I just can’t sleep.

Thank you.

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photo credit: 2013-10-10 20.17.53.jpg via photopin (license)

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