Minding Marriage, Or Marriage of the Minds...

We lean in, like a sculptured work in progress, enigmatic scent to kiss, when suddenly, the three inch wide orange rubber bands around our wrists, pulled behind our backs, spring us away from each other at supersonic speed. Hair flying in front of our faces, slipping through wind without weight... Back to opposing sides of the world, tethered to work, anxiety, bills, and the unavoidable responsibilities of adulthood. Immediately, I feel my ankles bulge under the strain of stretching out to meet you again. My skull is an arrow aimed at you and I perspire indigence at what I leave behind. There are no words big enough to explain what I know. That you are on your other side of the world, arrow-headed in my direction, straining wrists in orange bands, shoulders almost dislocated from the magnetism that life injects into the scenario. It will be years again before we meet, perhaps, and yet, as long as I have the knowledge of our combined efforts, I have the strength to push ahead, pain what may. The air is still stained with our image where we barely kissed. Holographic disturbance which no soul will pass through, until the orange bands are stretched to cracking rubber, thread size, and we breathe each other's air once again. Patience is an additive in my blood, these days, and I rarely allow myself to ponder, that, in the mean time, in all this strain and wonder on our opposing sides of the world, struggling to reach one another, we must continue to live in the same house.