Week 5, Discussion 2

Anti-Gravity

The moon, a giant glass eye staring at the sun,

the stars, a heavy dusting of fine crystal over a navy blue dress;

a perfect mirror to the one my prom date had on.

We left the gym-turned-ballroom to be alone outside,

away from loud seniors,

drunk from hidden flasks under Burlington wool blazers, concealed garters,

and finding a soft patch of grass nearby the school's baseball field,

laid down our tired bodies.

We searched for constellations,

falling into the endless expanse of the universe,

holding each other's hand tightly,

afraid to let go in fear of being lost to the dark,

alone.

I grabbed at the ground's feathery surface with my free hand to stay anchored,

trying to keep myself from lifting off the ground,

flying past houses, light posts, trees,

losing my chance to hold onto something,

anything, that will keep me from floating into the night sky.

My date's narrow finger enters my vision, pointing at a star cluster,

suddenly reminding me of earth and soil.

She comments that Libra looks like a peeled potato and we laugh,

our voices leaping into the darkness.