india pictures the moon outside.

 

“I would never flush you down the toilet,” she whispers softly. I smile at her. The streetlight flickers, catches on the beads we just strung, clasped around her neck. Her eyes widen, I imagine she notices the same about the ones around mine.

**

“And I would never flush you down the toilet,” she says. Here we go. Here we go. Here we go. Through the snow. My head spins. I see the streetlight ascend, become one with the moon.

I turn away from her, retch into the snow. Look up, stars everywhere, blue and red, two huge brown eyes in the centre of my focus. I reach up, touch one in the centre, gently. Beautiful. The iris. Gentle, beautiful, the iris.

**

My breath catches, she releases my eyeball. I blink, once, twice, thrice. The red glowing stars around her fade to blue, then entirely. If she had vomited back home in the toilet and I flushed it, would I have broken my promise? I wonder. “Come, we’re gonna miss the ball drop!” I say.

**

I would never flush her down the toilet. I would never, of course I would never… She is beautiful… A billion voices scream in my head. I can tune into whichever one or two or three or four I like. It is interesting to me. ...You masochist. You machotits. dun dun dun dun dun dun dun Here we go! Here! Here! Here! Her. Her. Her.

**

I take her hand, lead us through the snow. “Wait.” She pulls down her pants, pisses on someone’s lawn, takes my hand again. She is quiet, I wonder what she is thinking. CRY 4 HELP! screams some white woman from some white billboard. She picks up an umbrella from the side of the road, twirls it between her fingers, “Now… now we have an umbrella.”

**

The night is far too beautiful. The world is far too beautiful. Rain rain go away… come again? here! Hear hear!

**

“Let’s go through the back.” Through the little wooden door, then the bigger wooden door, then the screen, I take us. I have to pee.

**

Here! Suddenly I am inside. I spin, lie down, pull the blanket to my chin. I hear the toilet flush, water running, who did you flush? Then I see her walk toward me, sit beside me, turn her computer to face me, knock our beads onto the floor, red and blue. “Look!”

They drop the moon from a tower. She kisses me. Everybody cheers.


Photographer: India Das-Brown