The contained force is like an explosion, propelling air towards all the houses on our street, rattling windows and gently tremoring through floorboards. During these storms, sometimes each roar in the sky seems to hum through my bones. From the couch, I see a blurry silhouette of the night as my eyes adjust. It's nothing but constant sheets of rain pouring from billowing dark clouds and strobing flashes of jagged white-blue light, like electric veins racing across the sky. The television's random digital glows bathe the living room in faint rainbow light. Little bits of our night surge through my mind. Lazily snuggling and flipping through channels; your laughter at some joke during the film that I can't recall; a small smile arcing your lips and your hand squeezing mine. My attention was more focused on you then. How beautiful you looked with the screen's glow covering your skin, eyes shimmering like jewels, like the rings around a mysterious planet that I wanted to reach. I love. I’m given a child’s rattle by a nearby mother, and I shake it, though I feel my heart should be loud enough… I’m sure you, at least, can hear it. My favorite day of the year, my favorite celebration, and I’m humming, twitching, aching to move, feeling intensely in my body the way I sometimes do when I’m dancing, and sometimes when I’m drunk. Intoxicating, indeed, this night’s beauty and your gaze on me like a hand. Under the overpass at the end of Fourth, near the parade’s destination, and I feel like I’m entering Abbadon, people on either side dressed in white death’s-head masks with torches, leading us down. The dissolution of death seems almost erotic to me tonight, I’m not afraid of it…coming apart to be put back together in another order, incorporating fragments from all around—from you, from the rest of the dancers, from the music, from the wind. I’m warm inside with excitement, but my outside is cold, so I twine my arm around yours and walk closer, communicating my thrill to.
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