​BLACK MARKET LIT

         Ronnie exhaled deeply.

 

         “She’s too good for us, man. Look at us,” he said as he motioned his hands in a way that meant he was talking about more than just the dilapidated room they sat in.

 

         “We can clean up.”

 

          They both chuckled and then grew silent.

 

           Ronnie pulled out from his pocket a tiny balloon tied off with a rubber band, ripped it open, and pulled out a small tin foil wrapped ball. Inside was a sticky, dark mound. He pinched off a small portion and placed it on another sheet of tin foil. Holding the foil, he positioned a lighter underneath the mound. It popped and sizzled under the heat. Ronnie inhaled the smoke through a straw and then topped off his lungs with fresh air.

 

        They sat there, staring into a void, as smoke wrapped itself around their necks and heads like serpents.

 

 

Blue

     

 

        “I had a dream about us.”

 

         She smiled but only enough to slightly reveal the white tips of her canine teeth. She looked devious and dangerous and beautiful. And as she lay under his covers, naked, she seemed completely exposed.

 

         “I dreamt we were floating in a blue river of dreams and each droplet was a wonderful life we could choose from. We would never go thirsty,” he said.

 

         She peered over the intrusive edges of his pillows. He wished he could see himself in her eyes but they were too dark and mysterious. He had to look away; he could get lost in those eyes. He wondered all the things he didn’t know about her.

 

          “I want to try it,” she said.

 

          He nodded but the idea struck him as perverse and wrong. He didn’t say anything. Instead, he lay there and let the waves of covers and lust wash over him as he tip-toed his fingers on the stepping stones of her back.

 

 

Green

 

 

          The money she had given him wasn’t green anymore. It had lost its color long ago between two hands of some other transaction.

 

          “Are you sure?” he asked.

 

          She nodded and inhaled. Her lungs burned and she coughed until her face was wet with tears and sweat. Then she laughed uncontrollably as her face slowly moved away from feeling. Through the smoke his hand moved and touched her. Their lips meet and he blew more smoke into her lungs.

 

          She had felt thrills and empowerment before. But never like this. Lust crept from between her legs and wrapped itself around her brain.

 

They had wild, technicolor sex and danced on the lines between lucidity and dream. She had never been more scared. She knew immediately she was outmatched. What could ever replace this feeling for him?

 

 

Grey

 

 

​           The night sprinklers gave him the false impression of rain. The scene was complete with droplets suspended in the air by the perforation of the screen like tiny planets trapped in a galactic net and grey, opaque skies that never really seemed to start or end. He stretched out his finger and watched one of the droplets desperately latch onto his skin.

 

           “Come back to bed.”

 

           The droplet fell.

 

           “Don’t let this stuff get on top of you. You won’t win,” he said. “What we do is fun but it’s not our life. We have dreams.”

 

           She nodded to say she understood.

 

 

Yellow

 

 

​          “I think it wants me. I think it has me.”

 

          Her stomach lurched and her vomit found its way into the toilet. He held her hair and watched her pale skin vibrate with violent muscular contractions.

 

          “Fuck. Jesus, this shit sucks,” she said.

 

          She spit and rested her head on the toilet seat.

 

          He thought she looked beautiful even like this.

 

         “It happens.”

 

         As he rubbed her back he was overcome with the familiar feeling of nausea.

 

 

Red

 

 

         The place had a back alley ambiance, complete with red flickering neon lights that hummed incessantly.

 

         “I hate this,” he said.

 

         “If this guy would hurry the fuck up,” she snapped.

 

         The man they waited for smelled like motor oil and old meat. His face was covered in hair that hid secrets and his gut spilled out of his stained wife beater. He kept his over-sized sunglasses on as he entered the dark room and re-positioned the silver gun he kept in his pants so that they could see it.

 

         “How much you need, man?”

 

         The distance between them was filled with the hum from the neon lights.

 

         “A gram.”

 

         “One-ten,” the man said. “But hey, is that your woman? Fifteen minutes with her and you can have all the dope you want man.”

 

         Sweat beaded off the man’s nose and fell to the floor.

 

         “It’s the money or nothing. Take it.”

 

         “Just a joke man.”

 

         They exchanged without touching and waited for the man to leave.

 

         “Let me see it,” she snapped then snatched it from his hand.

 

         Her hands seemed to shake as she held it and her eyes were wide with excitement. After a few moments, she seemed satisfied.

 

         “Let’s go.” She said and walked out, letting the door close before he could follow.

 

          For a moment, he was alone with the incessant hum of flickering neon lights.

 

 

Black

      

 

          They sat and watched Ronnie frantically run around the apartment.

 

          “Too much fuckin’ coke, man. Too much, too much.”

 

          They laughed as he unsuccessfully tried to do the dishes and vacuum and the same time.

 

          “Chill the fuck out man.”

 

          “I can’t, I can’t. Look at all this shit. I gotta clean the dishes and, and, and there’s dust everywhere. Look at the dust. Fuck, I’m wiggin out man.”

 

          He waved his hands around like invisible, swooping birds were attacking him.

 

          “Ronnie, the place always looks like shit. Sit down. Smoke something and chill out.”

 

          “O..o..okay, alright, okay.” Ronnie stammered.

 

          So they smoked and they sat and smiled, for a while.

 

 

White

 

 

          He ripped open the small bag of coke and spilled its contents out. The wind, like a starved addict, eagerly swallowed it up and it disappeared among the white snow that radiated with sparkles and good health.

 

          She began to cry. Her warm tears assaulted the ground, putting huge gaps between them. He dropped to his knees and cradled her. She was a fugitive from life in his arms. Their tears mingled and then broke apart on the ground.

 

          She clutched pathetically at his collar. Her body shook with the exertion every word and tear. He could barely hear what she was saying. He quieted her as he swept her tears away with his thumb. Then he stood, with his hands covered in tears, and walked away, leaving her alone save for the gentle fall of snow.

 

 

Gold

 

 

          The trees were shedding their leaves like little secrets in confessionals. They looked like a mixture of dabbed and bare paintbrushes ready to paint a canvas with winter. He admired their last flare before death.

 

          In the surrounding color that made the land look ablaze with gold, she drastically stood out. Her soft, white skin seemed absurd placed in the colorful noise. She looked devious and dangerous and beautiful. She smiled at him and the leaves seemed to fall a little slower as if not to disturb them with their whispering.

 

          He approached her but had a moment hesitation. He thought of risk, love, and hate. Then the wind pushed at his back, reassuring him. He was confident, he said hello, it was the beginning.