Pillow Book

Here and Here


(On a scrap of paper tucked into the pocket where Dean keeps his car keys. He found the note - but not the keys - when he headed out to take a hunt solo while Sam was injured.)




Quizzing each other over dinner or
In the back seat. Chem tests, Latin, baseball
Scores. Geekboy, you'd say, but you reeled off names
Of movie stars, and never flunked a test.

Sixteen ways to break a bone: you taught me
That. Sparring round the room, flushed triumphant.
Till that time I learned the lesson a little
Too well: broke your wrist. You winced and swore, proud.

Stock, forearm, pistol grip. Your hands pick out
Each piece by name, unerring. You taught me
To break down and rebuild; clean, grease, reload
But I could never learn this peace in motion.

I trace slow paths across your skin. Count each
Mark anew, learn and relearn every scar.
Not mapping but knowing, you said, but I
Travel into unknown territory.

I don't know the story behind every scar
You got those four years. Each day I find new
Ways to touch your skin. I'm still learning, Dean:
No amount of time could ever be enough.

(Written along a sheet of paper folded into a fan shape.)





Ninety-nine degrees.
Water beads on sun-warm skin
Salt under my tongue.

(On a torn map page showing the I-90, tucked into Dean's sunglasses case.)




Some days, feels like the
Road stretches on forever.
Feel the miles settle
In my bones, weary.

But then you squint at
The sun; run your hand over
The hood, unconscious
Caress; smile at me.

And my heart lifts: the
Road stretches on forever.
Feel the miles roll out
Before us: a promise.

(Written on motel notepaper and tucked into Dean's hand when Sam left to get coffee.)




You

Sleep riding shotgun
Face slack against glass
Wake to say 'Careful
Driving my girl, bitch.'

Stay alert all night
Muscles tensed for action
Move quick and tireless
To cover my back.

Work without rest, then
Sprawl and sleep motionless
But still snap awake
When I say your name.

Here

(Scribbled on the back of a slightly damp floor-plan of a highschool.)




Breath knocked out. I gasp
Air, then lose it at the sight
Of dew-drop lashes.

Here

(Written in Magic Marker on the side of the empty coffee cup and left on the hood of the Impala.)





You buy me coffee
With cream. I kiss you; smile at
The words you don't say.

(On the back of a flyer entitled 'Embark on new challenges!' and tucked into the weapons compartment of the Impala.)




My first day at school.
'Big guys don't cry,' you said, but
Held onto my hand.

Here

(Written in the steam on the bathroom mirror. Invisible until the next morning, when the glass steamed up again when Dean was taking his shower. There's a smudged shape at the end which could be a heart, if that wasn't too unspeakably girly to be true.)




Dean, I - Your voice
Reading bedtime books made them
The safest place I knew.

(Written on a flyer for kids' swimming lessons which Sam picked up at a public library.)




I swam ten meters.
Finished gasping. You and Dad
Looked on and cheered.

Here

(Written on a piece torn from the flimsy disposable shower mat provided with the free toiletries, and tucked into Dean's shaving kit.)




Motel shower: no
Walls. You crowd close and water
Splashes everywhere.

(Written on the back of a room receipt from a motel where the only bed left was a single. The rest of the motel was booked out by a conference on 'Sex Over Sixty'.)





Motel bed: too small
Even for one.
Somehow just
Right for
Two.




Here

(Written on the last in a pack of Kleenex, which is also smeared with a tiny drop of blood. Tucked into Dean's pocket not long after a hunt.)





Copper-bright salt taste
Of a split lip. Stings so good
When I'm kissing you.

(Scribbled in the margin of an old road map while Dean dozed next to Sam.)





Rain on metal roof
Turning road into river.
We wait out the storm.

(Written on the back of a motel receipt and tucked under the pillow of Dean's bed. Sam's bed is piled with notes and weapons; it remains so the whole time they are staying there.)





You sprawl everywhere.
Drool on the pillow. Cling so
Close I can't move. Jerk.

Here

(On the back of a delivery receipt for a basketball.)





You hum along and
Tap your fingers on the wheel.
Drive into the sun.

Here


(Written on the back of a page of doodles Dean did in the library one day, and folded into the pocket of his favourite shirt after Sam did the laundry. The shirt smells suspiciously flowery.)




I sing of arms and the man
By fate a fugitive

Heart jumps the first time I see your face looking out
From a list that says murderer, thief. Lies that make
Me want to sing out. Speak of strong hands steady on
Cold metal. Sure aim. Criminal? Fuck that. Hero.


Not eaves aflame but moonlit marauders
Followed and flanked by carrion callers

Drinking in dark bars, laughing low.
Clasped close in the night
Forgetting dawn danger
Mouth soft skin and hope sunrise is slow.


She was already loosened like long hair
Poured out like fallen rain

White dress blowing free in the wind and I looked back
And let her go. Never turned back when you came slow
And sad from the hospital. Know you thought I should
But I'm not sorry. And you did the same for me.


I sing the body electric...
The strong, sweet, supple quality he has strikes through the cotton and flannel.

Blood sings as we run, pounds heart to heart as we fall
Laughing. Grapple and roll.
Freckle-flushed skin golden in the sun
Makes way more sense than any words I have.


You read our lives in blood and dirt on cloth.
I map our path in ink and paper histories.
Libraries and laundry, Dean.
Two sides of the same face.

(Sent from a table in a dark corner of a bar.)






You think I hate loud
Music and nightclubs, but I
Like to watch you dance.

(Dean was standing at the bar 'interviewing' a cute blonde when Sam sent this message. Instead of his usual tone, it triggered a full-length version of Whitney Houston's 'I Will Always Love You'.)





Senior prom. You set
My phone to play 'Lady in Red'.
Called just when Clare James

Was about to let
Me put my hand up her shirt.
Seems pretty funny now.

(Stuck in Dean's wallet next to the condom he always carries.)





Cold silver and warm
Skin press against my hip. Hot
Breath at my ear. Mine.





Here

(Written on the back of an empty bakery bag and tucked in the side-pocket of Dean's duffel, where he usually hides his candy stash.)



sugar-crystal
sticky lips
kissing
mine