I can feel your heart pounding; yes,
I can. I can hear the thud, thud, thud beating against my face and shaking the
very core of my being. I know that you keep your phone tucked beside your
breast, often having a difficult time freeing it from your chest’s viper-like
grip once the vibration starts and you, too, begin to feel the cadence of my
heart mingling with yours. I can feel your heart pounding, dancing with the
maniacal rhythm of a third grader with a metal can strapped to his chest and a
piece of wood in either hand, and the song gives me pause, beckons me back to
days when the sun was just a little higher in the sky and the moon, just a
little lower.
Do not ask how you know me. There
isn’t enough time. Let the rhythm take you instead. Let it move you as those
old pop songs of the eighties and nineties once commanded. Yes, dear, let it
free your mind, for what I have to tell you may not sit well if not properly
prepared.
