There he was in his old Cadillac speeding into the wild. He was heading as far away as the clunker would take him “Maybe Portland, Juno, or Seattle,” he thought as the miles pulled him away from her for the last time. This was his only chance and he needed no golden compass to understand that there will be blood if he ever dare return.
There was a time he would have travelled across the universe, fought men and beasts that might dare try to keep them apart. And now, again they were reunited by a chance encounter. Elizabeth saw him and her eyes opened wide she smiled and whispered “my love” the way she did when they were young and he was enchanted.
Like an august rush, they allowed themselves to plunge back to a different time. They made love like the savages they were, hungry for the past they had nearly forgotten. That golden age when he looked like an old fashioned american gangster and she was as lovely and fresh as a rose.
As he drove faster the feelings of sadness turned to anger. He thought about the war/dance they had willingly engaged in. He hated himself for not realizing right away that there was no country for old men in the life she led. They were counterfeits of their younger selves. Transformers who thought that they could reclaim their bliss, even for a moment. Yet that time was “gone baby, gone” he said aloud snapping him back to the road ahead.
All he could think was “I am not there,” and that was enough to keep him moving like a mad man driving a taxi to the dark side. He felt possessed, a sicko feverish and no end in site. At night when his body grew tired and his mind dim, he would pull into a motel and rest, but now he just wanted to keep moving towards what he saw as his only chance for atonement.
Copyright ©2008 Veronica Romm
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