Do You Know What Night Is?

Do you know what night is?
Listen O wise one...

...I am drunk, the moon is in love,
and the night is totally mad.

Rumi

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The moon is in love. It drips wild honey over your broad shoulders, down your body. Sweet, wild honey to tempt me.

The night is totally mad. I have tasted the sweet, wild honey that drips over your broad shoulders, and the sweet wild honey that courses through your veins, and I have gone mad too. Mad with the love of the moon. The sun rises, but the moon remains in the sky. The moon is a little shy, but so in love with Hutch that it cannot bear to leave. We wake, and stretch, and open our eyes. And then we laugh. Our bed is a mess. What we did in that bed for most of last night, had nothing to do with sleep. We were in and out of each other's bodies, in strange and wonderful ways. We were on top of each other, and underneath each other, and twisted around each other so that even we couldn't tell who was on top and who was underneath. We shared sweet, wild honey back and forth between us, and we shared love with the moon.

The moon is in love. Sometimes, we slept. At last we slept for a while, a short while, side by side in each other's arms, and now we feel rested. You look rested, and at peace. I want my Hutch rested, and at peace, and I want my Hutch to believe in our love.

Sometimes you believe in our love. At first you didn't believe, I know. You thought that I could be scared off by the ludicrous rants of the homophobes, when I couldn't be scared off by an entire army with AK47's. Not from your side I couldn't. An entire army of homophobes armed with AK47's couldn't scare me from your side.

I understand your fear, don't get me wrong. The world is a cold place, at times. This world eulogizes love, after it kills it. This world stomps on love and kills it, and then moans and wails about how beautiful love is.

You and me, we have loved each other forever, even before we started with the rolling around in bed in the moonlight thing. Even before I started drinking wild honey from your body, I loved you enough to die for you.

But now, because we feed each other wild honey, we've suddenly become unspeakable in some people's eyes. You would call that a mixed metaphor or something, but you know what I mean.

Take Captain Dobey. He was fine with our loving each other, up to the moment I told him we were doing the horizontal tango. Now, he's not so fine.

That doesn't bother me, like it bothers you. One day, I died. I was dead, truly dead, for some minutes. My heart stopped dead cold in my chest. While the doctors and nurses worked their butts off to revive me, I met God. Or something. I was in a bright world of perfect beauty. There was no fear, or pain, or sorrow, or hate. There was love. There was a love that surrounded me with its perfect acceptance of everything I was or could be, and I was nearly consumed by that love. I nearly drowned in it.

Then I heard your voice. I saw you running toward me, calling my name. Suddenly, the love which surrounded me wasn't so perfect. Hutch wasn't there. Hutch was calling me, telling me he needed me, and that was the fly in the ointment. The perfect love that surrounded me, didn't need me, not like Hutch needed me. I started my heart beating again, and I came back to this cold world that stomps on love, just to be with you, so you wouldn't be alone.

I told you all this, several times. I think you finally get it, but your mind works in mysterious ways. Sometimes you confuse me with other people. Just sometimes. Most of the time, you know me.

Last night you knew me. Last night, you fucked me, after you tore my clothes off and sucked my cock. Then you knew me. You screamed my name, and poured sweet wild honey right into my body. I think I levitated right off the bed, and I'd probably still be on the ceiling, but your weight held me down. I looked up into your eyes, and they flashed white fire.

You're in the shower. Hot water streaming down your body. What made me start loving your body, when I'd only loved women's bodies before? I'm not sure, but it doesn't matter. Not now. You loved men before, though you kept that from me for a long time. I was upset, but I think I hid it. Upset that you'd hidden it from me, I mean. Upset that you'd hidden your love from me, even though I understand.

The world is a cold place, and it stomps on love.

This island, Miranda's Island, is not a cold place. Come out of the shower, Hutch. Let's go riding along the beach, in the mist, under the sun and the moon.

*** The End ***

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