The night sky is alive, dancing with stars and satellites and the people in the airplanes moving from city to city who don’t even know we are looking up at them. And in the center of it all, the mighty comet shines, beckoning us to stare, away from the earthlings and their endless troubles and their amazing inanity.
Follow me she sings, and we are tempted, mightily so as her tail calls us to climb up and take a ride for which there is no end.
My tires let out a faint screech as we turn the sharp corners, going way too fast, up the long canyon to Jenna’s house, where I will drop her off before she gets drunk and fucks her loser roommate for the umpteenth million time.
But for now, she holds my hand and I dream of a life together that will not, can not ever ever happen.
There’s a hitchhiker and we slow down pick him up, but change our mind when we notice something odd about his silhouette. Is that machete in his hand? I look in the mirror just in time to see him flip us off.
Jenna opens the glove box and from behind my expired registration, pulls out an old stale pack of Twinkies, asking where they came from. I tell her I have no idea, but they are probably still good since Twinkies stay good for a decade, and my car is only 3 years old.
She opens the pack and stuffs one into her mouth, then rolls down the window and spits it out, laughing and screaming like a madwoman, slapping the dashboard so hard I think she going to break it.
Later, when I’m driving home alone, a song by the Church comes on about the Milky Way, and I notice a white rose she’s stuck in her air vent, which is filling the car with the scent of sweet, sweet love.
I open the sunroof and reach up, trying the grab the comet with my hands, but it’s elusive, like a hologram or a movie or a reflection.
The wheels screech again, reminding me how very precious life is. I step harder on the gas, blissfully unconcerned.