Gravity

I hate gravity. I hate it with all my strength. And with both of my feet. And when was 16 years old I was doubling the speed limit my best friend in the passenger seat blasting the music as loud as it could go. And I saw a ramp a ways ahead and I looked over to her and said "we're gonna fly". And she gripped the handle above her head and screamed, "I'm gonna die." That was my first lesson about gravity. About the way the earth bends just past the horizon and how no matter how fast I go I'll never catch a rainbow. But I'll still try. Because it's not about where you end up it's about how fucking awesome the road trip was. It's about drifting into your grave with a skinned knee and a mild concussion because we're all gonna rot in the ground anyway. My 16 year old self taught me how to live like the world was dying just as fast as we were. But the truth is it's gonna live forever. And this isn't a party story. This is a love story. Because just before I graduated from my 16 year old self I met a girl who got 6 days of "when I was your age" and 3 years of "we're not the right age". And when I finally looked myself in the mirror and said it's time to grow a beard and stop playing with expenses and laws, that was the day I put my heart in a cage and gave it to her but kept the key. Because I'm scared she might try to unlock it. And I can't afford for it to run away again. I'm sitting here torturing myself dying to feel those 2 seconds of airtime I'm killing myself trying not to fly. Because it's gravity that always pulls me down. And if you ask water she'll tell you Gravity, it's her savior. As for me I like the way fire ascends into the heavens. I like the way it burns you when you get close. I like how nobody pays attention to the blue. And it feels like a privilege to see it through and through. But like I said this is a love story. And we're only 17 years old. But if you look at her people say she looks like her mother. Gorgeous. And a smile that never fades. And when I look her through and through I can see her smile looks a lot like a pen. Writing her story just trying to make it to the next page. But if you ask me what she looks like I'll tell you she looks like toasted hazelnut on an autumn Sunday morning. She looks like the rain. She looks like I've been sleeping a lot more lately and for once I can hear myself think. Like, this world isn't really what I was looking for but I'd be happy to run away with her. Like she makes me want to stay. And she looks like a tattoo on my left forearm that matches her right. And she looks like my future. And if you ask me about my latest lesson on gravity it's that with some people it doesn't apply. Because when she's in the passenger seat of my sheet black camaro I hold her thigh. We cut the speed limit in half. I tell her we're better than water because with every ounce of my being I believe "we're gonna fly."