Space

“Space, baby, space,” I said as I leaned into her silken arms. The moon hung brownish red and blurred in my poor prescription glasses but I knew what it was all the same—this was the eclipsed moon that begins the cycle under which we will marry. It’s not astrology I believe in, it is the act of peering into the night sky, of dreaming of stars and the texture of the space between them. It’s what we both did as children and did again together last night. In this act forevermore, we will find our minds reaching toward the dark in concert, holding hands, winding through the byways of time.