"Fever to the Form"

Song by: Nick Mulvey

She yelled out from the top of the hill that ‘we were giants’. I stood just next to her but she still yelled out for me, to look at us, look at how far we stretched. Our shadows were cast across the parched grass as the late August sun dipped its paintbrush further and further behind us.  

One shadow was slightly longer than the other, like a candle that had melted at a faster speed. Another shadow swung and danced, its flame flickering in the wind of someone’s wish. 

I didn’t want to be a giant, or a candle, or part of a pair, but I liked being near. That was the only thing that kept me close; the fervor that being near gave. There was something vile and volatile about the placement of ourselves together, and even worse when apart, but when we were near, the breeze was sweet and laughter is rolling. 

The August sun had dipped itself fully into its inkwell and we were small again. She had stopped yelling and we sat quietly. The palpable desire loomed under the humid air, but the arduous past kept a damper on it. 

We could be one of those sets of people that breaks the odds. We both thought that we were at the beginning. Yet, there is something too specific sinister about hearing the world on the same wavelength. We needed a change and a swiftness to change the frequency. There was no chance in a storm arriving, and rain wouldn’t have sufficed anyway. 

We needed something stronger to break the flame, to cut the ties, to set us free. 

She looked over at me, pulling grass out from underneath her as if she were still a child, and said, “Did you think our shadows looked like twin flames?” 

“No, they were giants.”