They had what I think is the perfect girl-to-boy height ratio, and stood facing each other, jointly bracing themselves against the jerking motions of the subway. She turned her head to rest her cheek against his chest, as cozy as if his starched, cotton shirt was a bedsheet. He leaned down to snow her hair and face with a gentle flurry of papery kisses, his lips barely pressing against her, making contact just light enough to verify for himself that she was still there. He turned his hand to comb her hair and caress her face with the knuckles of his curved fingers; she, being too short to reach his head without disrupting their relaxed posture, wrapped her own hand loosely around his wrist, and stroked his arm as his fingers followed the contours of her face.

They were so very solemn, these kids who stood holding each other. They leaned loosely together in confident wonder, each validating the space occupied by the other, and murmured casually about mundanities: where they would meet for lunch, what classes they had to attend, which professors and which theses were proving to be pains in the ass. The conversation was secondary to the fact that they were together. They looked at each other as if to say, "It is you. It is."

Maybe they had made love for the first (or last) time last night. Maybe they had just sworn proclamations in terms of the "L" word for the first (or last) time earlier this morning, before boarding the train. Who's to say? Certainly not me or the man who stood to my left, both of us smiling, soft-eyed, at the young lovers. Certainly not the young woman by the boy's elbow, who rolled her eyes and wished she didn't notice him or his girl. Most certainly not the lovers themselves, oblivious to the magnetic quality that their private scene radiated to their fellow commuters in the subway car.

They were gravity without consequence. Their moment is immortal, unfettered by past or future. Whatever tears or heartbreak may come later weren't even a consideration for as long as they held each other on the train. As blind as they were peripherally, I'm sure on some level they knew that their narrow, laserbeam focus is what inspires modern rock ballads, and their hubris the reason why knights used to be slain by dragons' talons.

Years ago, I knew a boy who let me lean on him the same way. He, like my subway hero, was spare and tall, and could rest his chin on the top of my head. My favorite thing in life, at the time, was to stand with my ear against his chest, and snake my hands up the sleeves of his t-shirt to grasp the bare skin of his shoulders. With this boy, I discovered that the softest place in the universe is the small patch of downy skin right behind the earlobe, that plane which is not quite jaw, not quite scalp, and not quite neck. With this boy, I became fascinated by my own elbows, my hipbones, the small webs between my fingers.

I could have sat on his couch and traced the arches of his eyebrows with my fingertips until the lightbulb burned out, and I wouldn't have noticed the darkness. With him, I learned of the beauty of joints and the way they crease the flesh. I fell in love with how parts of one's body fit together to make a whole, and how these parts of ourselves can reach out to create strange and similar junctions with another body. On evenings when I couldn't be with him, I would stay up late, by myself, and watch my hands dive through rays of lamplight, creating shadows and silhouettes I had never dreamed would be in my power to conjure. I was innocent and invincible.

I don't know where that boy is, now. I don't long for him anymore, and he wasn't in my life for long enough to even be in any of my photographs. But I still think about him every day, and when I do, I don't recall the lies he told or how sorry he was. Instead, I think of the way his pale shoulders felt under my hands as I pressed my ear to his chest to listen to his heartbeat. I remembered that this morning, while smiling voyeuristically at the embracing young passengers.

Separately, neither of those kids was especially beautiful or outwardly extraordinary. Partnered, they were entrancing. I couldn't take my eyes off of them. The subway doors opened and closed as the train ventured southward, allowing commuters to enter and exit the car at each stop. People flooded around and streamed past the lovers, who remained as still as a stone in a river.

~ Last Five Entries ~

Moths, and Relative Nonsense - 08.18.05

I Finally Have Internet Access in my Bedroom. But, No Ashtray. - 08.09.05

Here I Am - 08.02.05

One-Armed Paper Hanger Earns her Wings - 07.29.05

Sugar & Lemon - 07.28.05

---

BUY JEN'S BOOK! BUY IT! DO IT!

---

BUY DEAN'S BOOK, TOO! YOU KNOW YOU WANNA! SERIOUSLY.

---

««« Chicago Blogs Webring »»»

---

email:

---

words © luvabeans, 2003 - 2004