Seance

I go back to our favourite restaurant to hold a séance.

I drink my tea, burning my tongue, hurrying to see what lies at the bottom.

The tea leaves show me a skeleton riding a horse and I know that it’s time to put this to bed, but I’m an insomniac.

The red seats in our favourite booth are stained with spilled drinks when you leaned over to kiss me.

Is your coffee order still the spell to summon you?

Give me a sign.

Drop that tissue box like the first time and let our eyes meet.

Let our fingers touch. Let us unravel.

Let us forego our reflexes and fall for each other.

Let time freeze as we burn for each other.

Put your spell and hands-on me, like the first time.

I miss being possessed.

I play our song on the jukebox, I chant your name to its beats.

Boom, boom, boom, you, you, you.

And when the guitar solo shatters the glass windows I howl your name into the night like it’s the only word I ever learned to speak.

It tastes like grilled cheese sandwiches and cola in my mouth, mixed with blood.

You took my grace from the tip of my tongue and made an angel of yourself.

I am bringing you back, to the place where it all started.

Did you really believe in Heaven?

The stench of your perfume fills the dry air in here.

The bacon and the onion soup stand no chance against it.

The lights in the aisle next to me flicker and flinch, settling into an unholy darkness.

I feel your empty presence slide into the seat, it feels like staring at the church altar.

You look beautiful. I can feel you pull on me. Are you here?

I can feel you pull on me toward the yes on the Ouija board.

This restaurant will succumb to the dry throats of everyone in here, to the cold that is settling in their bones, to their faith in Hell when they see you.

The only way to have you again is to have you haunt me.