can you feel my pulse

Do you remember that guy we used to see sometimes in the milk bar across the road? The one that was always walking in there on his own and never walked out with much more? You thought he was kinda cute and I’d just shrug my shoulders. Well, I was getting some groceries at Safeway after work the other day and there were so many people there. God, I hate going in there sometimes, but I was really looking forward to making some pancakes because I knew they’d make me feel happy and I was hungry after all as well. Anyway, I saw this guy just sitting down in one of the aisles and I thought maybe he’d fallen down, but surely people would have helped him, but they just kept moving past him. At first I was going to turn around and pretend I didn’t see it, but then I pushed my trolley right into him. I mean, why the fuck would he jam everyone’s way when everyone just wanted to get out again too, you know? He didn’t move, he didn’t even look up, so I rammed my trolley into him again. Harder this time. It felt really good and I hoped he wouldn’t react so I could give it another go. So I could fucking kick the stupid thing right into his flesh. He did though. He turned to me and simply stuck out his hand. That’s when I recognized him. I felt a bit guilty at this point, so I offered him mine to help him up, but he just tugged and pulled me down instead. I didn’t expect that and it made me trip and hurt my knee really bad. He laughed a little at that. Fucker! So then we were both just sitting there. In the middle of this packed aisle. He was staring straight ahead and I was cradling my knee. It really hurt and I was enjoying just holding it there on the linoleum floor and I slid a little closer to him and reached into the trolley behind me to pick out the maple syrup which I then opened and took a big swig from. I let out a big sigh as if it were strong like whiskey and burning my insides on its slithery slidey way down into my belly. I was waiting for it to make a fire in there, but nothing happened. So I took another swig and then handed him the bottle. He took a sip too and then smashed it against the shelf with the cans of tomatoes standing tall like red aluminium monsters. Then he picked up some of the shards of glass and offered me his hand again. I squeezed it against mine. So tight, so tight I never wanted to let go. From our palms ran red little rivers and I named one of them Phillip. We started discussing where Phillip would travel to if he could pick his own countryside and we both agreed that the hills around him would be mossy green, like somewhere in Ireland. Yes, he smiled. Phillip would enjoy the misty sky there as well. It sure would be better than the bright fake neon lights in here I added. There was a pause then, so I leaned my head on his shoulder, let my hair stick to spilled syrup on his skin and closed my eyes for a moment. The rushing and running around us became Phillip’s mighty roar, snaking through his beautiful countryside, full of rain to feed him as we pressed our hands together even firmer until I asked the boy if he’d like to join me for pancakes. And his smile and nod finally made it safe to let go.