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I stand in the soft, wet grass. A bundle of flowers rests in the crook of my arm. The air in Japan is sticky hot, like a stomach full of apple juice.
You're in front of me, kneeling in the park like a prince. "Move your head just a little to the right." This time, you've traded your nice Canon for my Polaroid.
Robert stands behind you, looking back and forth between us and the groups of on-lookers that surround the grassy lawn. I'm in the middle, being photographed and double-photographed as fans snap pictures. I shift my weight and turn from the sun, taking my bouquet with me. The flowers are light pink, a gift from the hotel staff before our departure. When we return home, I will plant them in soil and leave ice cubes to melt in the morning.
I turn to find you again, your eyes barely visible behind the camera. It was such a shock to see you in the States after time apart: all beard and heat and hippy-stench. And the rest of the band, too, stomping around like cavemen. I remember you finding me after that last US concert, your voice buttery. I missed you, a scratchy kiss to my cheek, and your scent.
Your manager's voice bellows to us. I reach down to help you up and we leave the park. You offer me the photograph and I see myself posing, smiling in the light. I hand it back to you in embarrassment.
Every bit is scheduled. Even exploring Hiroshima has an itinerary attached to it. Peter runs through it again when we meet the rest of the group. But you and I have never wanted to be like that. With me, you are cool and lax and I fall myself melting with you.
We walk through the city's outskirts. Noodle shops serve bowls to lawyers and financiers on lunch break and a young boy helps his father prepare little origami cranes for tourists. We pass a jewelry shop and my eyes catch a necklace in the window.
You press your palm to my back when I stop. Your breath lingers, "Do you want it?" The coarse hair on your face rubs against my cheek. It takes strength not to nuzzle into the feeling.
"No, no, let's go. Peter's getting all frazzled anyway."
"You sure? I think you'd look lovely with it. Just it and a pair of heels, nothing else." I can picture your tongue sweeping in your mouth. I reach to remind myself that you are solid.
"Okay," I give in and you usher me inside the store. It's a silver chain holding a dragon pendant. A green stone sits in the dragon's claws like an offering. I am just about to touch it when you call me over. The store owner has agreed to give us a discounted price, just for us, since you've stirred the city up with your music.
I stare at you as the owner curls the chain into a small brown paper bag. I fail at discretion as I admire the slope of your cheeks, the prominence of your nose in a face half-dark with beard. You give a toothy grin from beneath your mustache when accepting the bag. I smile and turn to leave with you, but you stop me again in the doorway.
"Wait," you pause. "Lift your hair for me."
Outside, the others are watching our intimacy. I shut my eyes so as not to see them. I feel your long fingers brushing over my neck. My back straightens at the touch as the pendant comes to rest just below the meeting of my collar bones, cool and heavy. You give a final kiss to my cheek and my knees nearly let me fall.
The heat of the day returns when we exit. I grab hold of you and turn sweaty with the nearness of you and the bright of the sun.
This one is an edit of a short piece I wrote some time ago. I wanted to revamp it. Stay tuned for one or two more parts. I hope you enjoyed <33
