Reasons for Nothing

Two weeny spoons of that gooey stuff is all we needed. We needed it to consummate the relationship but then we also realized that we needed to nature the intimacy. So we decided to open up a little bit more so she let me in a little deeper. A soupcon of love with a sharing of compassion touched me so deep a few tears escaped my tear glands. She saw the consideration and treated it with urgency and concern. She let me in a little more and I felt I had reached the blue skies. Up there, I floated among the clouds and played second fiddle with the cumulus clouds and the nimbus clouds. I thought about the saying, “being over cloud nine” and I tried counting the clouds I was resting on. I counted past nine and got bored. Bells rung and music played infinitely and rain drops slithered through damp air and vanished before my eyes. She sang songs that no human ear had ever heard before. Songs that angels sang in Genesis as God created the world. Her voice was delicate and visceral that air and molecules therein carefully danced around the sound of her voice as it escaped her corporeal lips. Only angels could decipher the lyrics of the songs she sang. She sang like a goddess. She hypnotized me. The clouds danced with us and the rain drops that watered our souls swayed and quivered as we floated past the moon and the stars. The stars felt jealous and they bled wine-glass-sized droplets of the purest champagne. The moon smiled and tossed red roses at us. The sun that had long taken refuge behind the other planets in the solar system sent us flying kisses that settled on our skins and glistened like star dust. She looked into my eyes and I felt naked. I felt like Adam and Eve in Eden after they had eaten the forbidden fruit. I closed my eyes as if to swathe my nakedness and I felt a pair of soft, sacred , righteous lips touch my own lips. A bolt of lightning flew by and landed somewhere on earth leaving shock waves in its wake. The rumbling sound of thunder engulfed us in a warmth so supreme that that my Manolo Blahnik boutique duvet back home felt like a pair of flimsy overused second hand bed sheets from our local flea market called Owino. When she sighed and giggled, her voice vibrated and bounced around the starry skyline like the Buran-the first operational Soviet/Russian shuttle orbiter in 1988. We floated past the Sputnik 1 deep space satellite station and I heard a man say, “I love the way the world looks from here. It’s so peaceful and serene I feel like singing you a serenade.” We floated to a massive white cloud and perched up on it. I sidled up right next to her and watched life from afar. The silence was so holy you could hear angels’ footsteps on heaven’s floor from where we sat. We watched the rivers, the lakes, geysers and hot springs until the sun came up. The beauty of the rising sun was so scintillating that I decided to cry. When my tears came out, they tasted like caviar and had the properties of molten silver. Then I stopped crying and laughed. My laughter resounded over the soft-scented morning breeze like the sound of a very small cock learning to crow at dawn….