Like prime numbers, so am I isolated from others.
Prime Number: A natural number greater than 1 that has no positive divisors other than 1 and itself.
Before I met Rodrigo I was a natural number. Alone, in the company of myself and ostracized from any other. Odd and alone.
Rodrigo made me an integer: an even number: 2 which can now be divided by 1.
Now as a 2, Rodrigo and I are no longer natural numbers. We’re not alone.
There is a natural beauty in a Prime Number.
But 2?
In 2 there are infinite divisors giving us perpetual computations.
And that is natural grace.
Last night Rodrigo and I escalated. We went further than we’d ever gone before. We hit that black ice and steered towards each other, feeling a definite sense of panic, but also a sense of relief to simply let go, and careen, silently, except for moans, towards an inevitable end. Not a crash, but more of an intersection. Last night we escalated.
trees, you know the road like the back of your hand, and then it happens, the skid, the loss of control, the giving up to happenstance, the thoughts of demolition, of crashing, flailing into an abutment, or rail, or, like Rodrigo and I, into each other.
crash. Like cymbals in a marching band or drums in a drum line. It’s a repetitive crash like an automatic weapon, which, when it ends, makes you sweat, exhausted, and, frankly, happy to be alive.
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 