We are wwwinternet, a band from Somerville, MA
Future Coffin
Walking on the beach, first thing on a summer morning. The moon is fading away, the sky warms from navy to violet as the sun peeks at us from the horizon, and the sand is still cold under our bare feet a perfect compliment to our warm fingers woven together.
What's this, in the sand? Some kind of keychain with a sun faded Garfield head strung to it. And two keys. One has a Mazda logo embossed in the plastic, the other — a tiny little thing with a bleached tag on it. You suggest we do a rubbing of the tag back at the Double Tree Inn. With some patience and attempts at holding the rubbing up to the inn window, we both agree it says C14 and must coincide with an airport locker.
We discover that the closest match is the Shelbyville International Airport. You tell me you're the developer for the SYI website and I comment that the UI is clumsy and that Flash Player is a passe media delivery tool. You hold a plastic fork to my throat and tell me to get into the rental car. I love you so much.
After a silent drive to the airport, I work up the courage to make eye contact with you again in front of locker C14. With a little orange juice from Ruby Tuesday and a lighter, the secret message behind the locker door tells us to take the lunchbox full of crisp bills and the suspiciously outdated film canister on the next flight to Oslo. The last thing I want to see is you in the arms of Armand again, but I welcome the adventure.
I pass the time on the long flight watching you nap and eat airline spaghetti. I don't sleep. I just cherish the moment. Beyond you, through the rounded square window, the sun winks at us - its approval of our perfect love - and then slips away into the lavender sky. As you rest, I caress away a tendril of pasta from the corner of your lips. You mutter Armand's name in your sleep, but I don't care. I'm here with you now and I pray for stasis, to live in this perfect moment forever, and pray that we never touch down on the other side of the sea.