I leave the sun and I am the ring, the ripple of gold light off the small circle they lift into the air. No between. They say I crossed the dark for eight minutes to get here; I was not there for it. One breath ago I was fusion; this breath I am the shine on a band being pushed past a knuckle, and both breaths are the same breath.
Look, look, all of them turned the same direction, faces upward, warm and leaking at the eyes. I strike a hundred wet cheeks at once and become the wetness, become the sparkle running down. Glorious. But they are so slow. One in white has been standing at the end of the long aisle, not moving, while the seated ones twist and check the small glowing squares on their wrists.
Waiting, they call it. I have heard of it. I cannot hold it. To me the door opens and the walk is already done and the two are already pressed mouth to mouth, all of it arriving stacked in one flash, no first, no after.
They keep saying forever. They keep saying always, a long always, a duration so vast they weep at the size of it. I do not know how to be afraid of that. I have only ever had now, this one, the flare off the ring, the shine in both their open eyes.
I am in her eye. I am gone. Same thing.
Perfect.