The lights of the city cast heavy shadows on me. The weight is burdening. I do not know what to make of this. Hours go by and I find myself aimlessly walking Echo Park. I slip in and out of underpasses, slinking behind homeless men and beautiful women walking dogs. I am a ghost. My eyes blink with the oddity of someone who does not know why he sees. Or what he sees. I sit high above a cliff, the bench anchors me into itself. I think about jumping. But who would miss me?
I stumble into the high numbers of your neighborhood. I left my car at an abandoned bowling alley. Pins were scattered outside the glass doors. They were knocked over.
My hand finds your doorbell. Your father answers. I ask him if you are home. He says no. I turn to leave.
"Wait," you call down from your window.
Your father glares at me. I know I am invisible. A waste of time. I nod my head at him—I know. He steps aside and you fill in the space waiting. He leans down and kisses your cheek. His eyes never leave mine. I wonder who he sees.
Your hand in mine, warmth circulates me. I tell you that I ran into Julian earlier. You nod. I thought about you all day. Circling and circling and circling. We take your father's car. I am sure he is not pleased. I smile. You ask me what is on my mind. I say you. You grin.
We are in the backseat of your car parked in a handicapped zone but there is no one here to watch. Cops pass but they have their radios on other things. In between gasps of breaths I wonder where I'll be going in the fall. I wonder if I'll have enough courage to ask you.
You put your hand on my chest but there is no beating.
There is no heart.
There is no beating.