Sade’s “No Ordinary Love” is playing. I hear Jon on the bass, the version of him that once loved one woman in the back roads of their forever PA. I let the filters prism out, remembering this morning’s quick, furtive dream, draped over me in satin sheets before the cum shot.
As far as I can tell, we are in a porno. The last one. And I am in love. He is in love with me. We realize our confession in front of the buffers and fluffers, set to retire. He reminds me of a character from “One Life to Live,” the funny con man played by a homosexual actor. Or “Dexter.”
When it’s love, all our past sins wash away, as if they had never been.
I see him for the first time, before the world soiled us with money and drugs and broken wisdom.
I wish I could tell you what redemption feels like, to stare back at his reflection in my eyes … young, beautiful, someone else … the drop of a B flat before the high ball, watching performers find a different groove, and end the show together.