With our lips we communicate hush-hush and we count each others secrets within our pockets. They bind us together, the secrets keep us in debted. Even the myriad of street fortune tellers, on our walk home, with their purple shawls and glittering jewelry don t know our secrets. We wrap them tightly in our held hands, swaying them at our sides as if we don t have a mystery.
The cicadas in the night cry louder when we tilt our heads together with whispers in the darkness of the park. It s as if we ve paid them to create a diversion; they cry and they weap, meanwhile we show our glowing teeth through our smiles as we giggle away, walking until the silence renders us mute.