To the Moon
I sat there at the lunch table writing when she came up to me like usual
"Wacha doin' Takkun?" she asked as she took a sip from the can she held.
My name's not Takkun.
"Homework," I answered as I continued to write.
I wasn't doing homework.
"Why don't you do it at home?" she asked as she straightened the skirt on her uniform.
Our school didn't have uniforms, but she always wore the same generic Japanese high school uniform.
"Cause it's not cool," I answered.
I felt her breast press softly into my back and her arms drape across my shoulders like a limp marionette hanging by it's strings.
"Why do you do this?"
It was my turn to ask the questions now.
"If Mamimi doesn't do it," she started, "She'll overflow."
Her name wasn't Mamimi, it was Angela.
"Overflow?" I questioned, "What'll happen if you overflow?"
"Who knows," she whispered in my ear, "Maybe something... amazing"
The bell rang and quickly the cafeteria emptied. Something was different about today.
"Let's leave this place," she suggested.
I smiled at the prospect, but I had to decline.
"I can't. My parents will kill me. And that's not a joke," I told her as she giggled.
"But conformity has no place for the likes of you and I," she explained.
"Maybe tomorrow."
Tomorrow can and started like the day before it, and the day before that.
"Okay Mom! See ya later," I shouted to the car as it sped off.
"Hey Takkun, ready to go?" called the voice of a siren.
It was Angela, and there she stood next to a yellow Vespa moped holding a red helmet.
"Why me?" I queried.
"Because Takkun, your head's the only one that works," she answered innocently, "Besides, you're the one I saw first."
She tossed me the helmet and I sat on the bike. She sat in front of me and I wrapped my arms around her waist like a seatbelt. She hit the gas and we flew out of the parking lot.
Grass, trees, the little yellow and white lines all became a blur as the earth melded into the grey sky.
Angela said something, I couldn't hear her, but I smiled and laughed anyway. We whizzed past executives and women in suits on their lunch breaks. We rode to the park sometime after noon and stopped at a bench. Angela pulled a large comforter out of her book bag.
We lay on the bench with nothing but a black and white blanket to protect us from the mid-November cold. Maybe it was the magical warmth of the blanket, or maybe it was the events that had taken place, but I felt my eyelids droop. I fell asleep with the sweet scent of Angela's auburn hair drowning my senses, and a lounge singer playing a single song in my head. Fly me to the moon Let me play among the stars Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars In other words, hold my hand In other words, darling kiss me
I sat there at the lunch table writing when she came up to me like usual
"Wacha doin' Takkun?" she asked as she took a sip from the can she held.
My name's not Takkun.
"Homework," I answered as I continued to write.
I wasn't doing homework.
"Why don't you do it at home?" she asked as she straightened the skirt on her uniform.
Our school didn't have uniforms, but she always wore the same generic Japanese high school uniform.
"Cause it's not cool," I answered.
I felt her breast press softly into my back and her arms drape across my shoulders like a limp marionette hanging by it's strings.
"Why do you do this?"
It was my turn to ask the questions now.
"If Mamimi doesn't do it," she started, "She'll overflow."
Her name wasn't Mamimi, it was Angela.
"Overflow?" I questioned, "What'll happen if you overflow?"
"Who knows," she whispered in my ear, "Maybe something... amazing"
The bell rang and quickly the cafeteria emptied. Something was different about today.
"Let's leave this place," she suggested.
I smiled at the prospect, but I had to decline.
"I can't. My parents will kill me. And that's not a joke," I told her as she giggled.
"But conformity has no place for the likes of you and I," she explained.
"Maybe tomorrow."
Tomorrow can and started like the day before it, and the day before that.
"Okay Mom! See ya later," I shouted to the car as it sped off.
"Hey Takkun, ready to go?" called the voice of a siren.
It was Angela, and there she stood next to a yellow Vespa moped holding a red helmet.
"Why me?" I queried.
"Because Takkun, your head's the only one that works," she answered innocently, "Besides, you're the one I saw first."
She tossed me the helmet and I sat on the bike. She sat in front of me and I wrapped my arms around her waist like a seatbelt. She hit the gas and we flew out of the parking lot.
Grass, trees, the little yellow and white lines all became a blur as the earth melded into the grey sky.
Angela said something, I couldn't hear her, but I smiled and laughed anyway. We whizzed past executives and women in suits on their lunch breaks. We rode to the park sometime after noon and stopped at a bench. Angela pulled a large comforter out of her book bag.
We lay on the bench with nothing but a black and white blanket to protect us from the mid-November cold. Maybe it was the magical warmth of the blanket, or maybe it was the events that had taken place, but I felt my eyelids droop. I fell asleep with the sweet scent of Angela's auburn hair drowning my senses, and a lounge singer playing a single song in my head. Fly me to the moon Let me play among the stars Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars In other words, hold my hand In other words, darling kiss me