We were speaking in car parts, him and I. Our hearts made into engines, fueling each other’s ignition, internal combustion of the soul. Wake with him, jumpstart my battery so I can make it to work. Cruise-controlling our way through life.
I didn’t realize he was my catalytic converter: kiss him and turn the toxic exhaust of my voice into clean air. Muffle each terrible thought. He was keeping me from breathing my own pollution. Then our crash collision: cool down, radiator. My shock absorber’s busted. I need a brake.
And I’d driven so much with him that I’d forgotten how to walk.
INSTANT NOODLES 