I write so that I may better understand this world I live in

Reflections About Heartbeats


“Kneeling bus” reads the side of Phoenix’s primary mode of public transportation. And it’s true. Each bus lowers itself  to the curb, graceful as the elephant it is. And if you sit with your back to the seat and your feet flat to the floor, you can feel its taxed heartbeat. It shudders through the body’s aluminum frame, close enough to touch.


My mattress is tough and uneven. But when the house is quiet, and the darkness is muffling the cats’ nocturnal noises, I lay very still and press my head against the sheet and listen to the sound of my heartbeat echoing through the springs.


When we lay together our arms hold the other and our legs tangle, but I feel as if I could curl up inside of him, which is an idea I read in a different story someplace. With my ear pressed to his chest, listening to his heartbeat, I can hear how there is a cavity in his chest that I could sink into and remain there, sleeping.


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