Our polarities were reversed, no matter how hard I tried to match myself to your dynamic ego , my floral to your weed , the magnetic field pulled us away from one another . Pushing and pulling us further with every try...

Pull

Here is this string, it pulls when we tug on it. It is what is holding us together. A light force that binds us, momentarily until it snaps, or one of us lets go . You starts the engine, first its a roar then slows down to a warm gentle purr. Meanwhile I strap the seatbelt on aware that my excitement may be showing so I try to conceal it, slowing down what my arms and fingers are doing. I can`t let you know that this is what I live for this moment here beside you in your car. With self possessed ease you grab hold of the steering wheel and swerve until we turn a 45 degree angle to the right and slide down the ramp into the fast pulse of speeding cars. Lights flashing past us you pick up the speed. I turn to my left and stare at your profile , I feel safe this is where I want to be. Here in this moment, on this highway driving at this neck breaking speed I would willingly die knowing I was by your side. Yes, I am not afraid when I`m with you. You break the spell and shout out "tell me something, a story". Quickly I try to gather my thoughts, you are often impatient with my tardiness to snap back into the clarity of the moment. My attempts to beat your mock laughter is lost, I can`t think of anything , I am happy to sit here with you and stare out the window. I ask about your family in Engalnd, and those in Iraq. There has been another kidnapping you say, a distant cousin but you are from the same tribe. Its tribal warfare you yell, your hand lifts off and hits the streeing wheel as you say this. You shake your head "Bush is an idiot" you fume. In a few minutes we will reach the apartment complex in the center of downtown. We will drop in on Ahmed at his tobacco shop. Short man with a shining bald head and a generous smile. He winks with a twinkle and slight lift of his brow when he sees me with you. You look down like a school boy embarrassed. I can`t understand the Arabic you are speaking, only fragments of words I have picked up. WE finally leave and take the elevator up to your apartment. While you prepare the fried eggplant and yogourt I prepare the ' Shish a ' for us to smoke.


MK
photo by Jan Saudek