by Lance Allen
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Hey what's up man! What's going on with you today? Oh really? Yeah that shit sucks. What's that? Yeah what a douche. That fuckin guy is gonna get his head caved in. He's gotta smarten up and fly right. No I don't think he'll ever fuckin get it. He's stupid. Yeah. I know. I know. We'll yeah she's fucking dumb too. No lights on in the kitchen. Huh? Upstairs? Oh shut the fuck up. I don't know what I'm taking about. Yeah. Yeah. Okay hey uh I'm going down there later. You gonna be there? Yeah good. Okay hey so I'll catch up with you later. Yeah, yeah. Okay cya.
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We got married at the beach. Just a few of us. We didn't wear shoes; we stood in the surf and promised ourselves to each other. She radiated. The last strands of the day, shimmering through the water, lapping her feet, christening her brow, bring about images of lasting beauty. Small seas of blue twisted behind long lashes and girlish whims. She smiled as if the world worked and she was the teacher. I loved her more.
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He almost passed out when I told him. His legs buckled to the floor and he narrowly missed smacking his head on the coffee table. I didn't expect that kind of reaction. He said he knew the day would come. He was just shocked it had come so soon. He thought he needed more time. He said he wasn't ready. But then I told him he was and he could do this. He almost squeezed the lives right out of me. I loved him more.