graphics mode c r o s s X c o n n e c t previous | next

| main page
| issue contents
| contributors
| e-mail us
x
c
o
n
n
e
c
t
   l o s t

--- D O N A L D   I L L I C H


I deliberately get us lost, say the blue line when unrhymed orange is the right one, point us to a bad exit 10 blocks from the Mexican restaurant. Under-dressed senoritas walking the sidewalk secretly laugh at our mistake, smiling as if they know itís only a matter of hormonal time before I lick the rims of their glasses.

Stopping, you fold your arms, glare at me through a gray cloud of bus exhaust, and signal with your stamping feet that Iím a lit butt beneath them, just about to be crushed. Whatever you do, even if youíre Smoky the Bear preventing forest fires, smothering my flame, Iíll continue to give a hoot about you, and pollute every route to our destinations.

Because: your skin flushes when youíre angry, your teeth adorable when they gnash together. I love your hate more than I like your love. Only one I find easily, only one I can see in the dark, wondering where I am.

© crossconnect, inc 1995-2006 |
published in association with the |
university of pennsylvania's kelly writers house |