Here we stand with nothing more than a paper thin sheet of plastic between us. It could tear at any second. And, we would find ourselves entwined as one steamy mass of flesh and spirit. Or, fall apart and lay lifeless, lost and alone. We stand under a bright blue sky littered with mashed potato clouds. We stand upon a long, white picket fence with green grass on either side. How strange we stand side-by-side yet facing each other. What allows this to occur? What defiance of logic is this? We stand there...wavering...with a gentle breeze whispering messages in our ears...
"Do it."
"No. Don't do it."
"What are you waiting for?"
"Wait."
We stand presently classified as friends. Confidants. And, yet, even of that title we are not certain. Though we can see each other clearly--even think we see into each other--we stand confused. Naked? We cannot be sure if what we feel is primal...animal. Or if it is emotional...personal...special. We test the plastic between us often. Gentle at first. Then increasingly forceful with our touch.
Why don't we stop? Don't we realize that if we incur temptation, the plastic will not hold and the eminent result will be unleashed? Do we truly want that? Do we understand the cause and effect? The potential results? Good and bad?
We see others walking on either side of the fence. They are more attractive in some way yet we know nothing of what lies beyond their appearances. If only we could get close enough to judge them more efficiently. But, for now, we stand on the fence. We try not to look at each other. Try to call attention from one of the others. It makes us waver more. Then, we spin back around and find ourselves facing each other again. Do our hands touch? Grab hold of each other? We almost lost balance there. Almost fell into each other. How long can we stand here? Will we ever get tired of the thin, plastic barrier between us?
As our motions stabilize for the moment, we find nothing changes. We remain where we stand. Unable to move one way or another. Afraid of the outcome. How it will change us. Perpetually on the fence.
[prose of sorts, work in progress, by brainstormer 10-21-08]
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