The other day he told me, “Darren,
I need your help, and forgiveness.”
So I rose from our bed nervous
for a moment I stopped breathing
as I slid between the rooms
of his apartment, to where he stood
inside the bathroom.
After we exchanged rings I realized how afraid I was to wear it. What if it slipped off and I didn’t notice and lost it forever? What if someone saw it glinting like platinum in the moonlight and tried to steal it? What if they succeeded? I tugged it unconsciously, spun it constantly, couldn’t stop looking at my hand, just to see it was there, even while I felt it.
On the subway, smiling at each other, we tapped our rings together and he said, “They’re like rings of power,” and I laughed, thinking back to Saturday mornings with my eyes against the TV while my five friends chanted, “As our powers combine,” and the theme song to Captain Planet began playing. “They are,” I agreed, and grinning, he added, “Just so long as they don’t turn us into Nazgûl.” And have I told you before that Tolkien is my literary idol? Have I told you before I dream of writing a world like his? Have I told you before there could have been no better way to end our engagement than those softly spoken words as we hurtled under the earth?
Now I wish they were Rings of Power. I wish I could spin it on my desk, a white light engulfing its silver surface, and be able to talk with my love as if he were in the room with me. I wish I could tap it three times on the door and open it to step inside his room. I wish all I’d need to do is put it on to teleport beside him and take it off to come back home.
But it’s only a ring. A silver band with imperfections just like mine. I can’t appear beside him at will. I can’t whisper here and he’ll hear me there. It’s only a ring.
And I’m no ringwraith, no chosen one. I’m only a man.
It’s not that I don’t want to get married
it’s simply the fact that I can’t
but what would it matter even if I did
when I know how they all end anyways
Well I guess they don’t all end
but you know what I mean when I say
that most of them do go anyways.
It wasn’t my idea to put the wedding cake in the middle of the road. It just sorta ended up there by accident. See, we were driving too fast, and the back was open, and…
Whoops. Wrong story. This one’s far more comical, and ten times as cynical. But don’t take my word for it. Just keep reading. You’ll either be amused, or abused, or perhaps off put. It’s hard to say sometimes. Life’s just crazy like that.