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The day my laptop broke was the day my marriage ended. He became a lie to me, much like my warranty. I wouldn’t have even trusted his name was Devon Woodrow Michaels had I not seen it on his driver’s license when we went for our marriage certificate. In hindsight, his name could be Mark or Charles or even Euripides for all I know. I believe he had a friend who worked at the DMV. Maybe, that person helped him out with more than just skipping the perpetual DMV line. Hey, stranger things have happened and by the end of our marriage stranger things did.

How deceptive the eyes are when controlled by the heart. They became puppets of the illogical and intangible. When I first saw him cleaning out his Cadillac at the local car wash, I just knew one day I would be scribbling the name Mrs. Kokoro Michaels in a notebook like a foolish H.S. student. He seemed to float straight out of a dream. His locks caressed the full length of his back and greeted his succulent booty. I wanted to squeeze that bottom just to see how juicy it really was. Mmm, mmm, mmm, where is a penny when you need one? I’m sure it would bounce before it even reached that slice of heaven. He stood. That was most accurate when describing his height. For it seemed like he could not be measured, could not be contained. His smile drew you like a cartoonist with a satiric strip. Without one word from him, I had already become the protagonist in his next publication. He was a walking Shakespearean sonnet, both beautiful and tragic to the palate. I didn’t love him then, but I understand why someone would. We exchanged numbers mutually but I wasn’t aware that honesty would not be apart of the trade.

“Devon, Devon Michaels,” he introduced himself proudly.

This was perhaps the first and last honest profession he would make.

                Our first date was unique. It was nothing less than what I had come to expect from Devon. He picked me up on a two person bicycle. The same man I saw not two weeks prior with license plates reading dread in red, gold, and green colors was now sporting a twin bike?

                “You ready?” Devon crooned in that sensual voice that serenaded me to sleep every night since we first met and visited me in my dreams like a honey coated lullaby.

                “Ready for what?” I was more than curious. Eventually, I would learn why curiosity killed the nearsighted cat.

                “Anything your heart desires.” Devon replied through his intoxicating smile.

I remember being afraid of a smile like that before. Perhaps Devon and the Cheshire cat shared the same dentist.

                “Well, I could go for a walk on the moon,” I retorted smartly.

                “Then a walk we shall make. But first you have to mount my spaceship.” Devon smiled as he tapped on the back seat of the bike.

                “Hmm,” and a headshake of disbelief, was all I could muster.

I straddled the bike wondering what he really wanted me to mount. As I rode in complete ignorance of where we were really going, I completely lost myself in the smell of Devon’s hair. It was edible, a sweet aroma inviting vanilla to have a threesome with musk and raspberries that would make lavender jealous. The smell of his locks was like a tranquilizer, so much so that I forgot to pedal and almost fell off the bike.

                “You ok back there?” is what Devon’s words translated to.

At the time, all I heard was the sound of his locks playing like an old Etta James song. At Last seemed to pulsate through his locks and transmit from that intoxicating smell. I would have married that smell, signed the deed to my house over to that smell, donated a kidney to that smell. I forgot to pedal and developed amnesia to balance.

                “Yeah, uh yeah  I’m good.” I managed to utter. “Umm, just lost my footing.”

                “You got to keep in sync  baby. No worries, we’ll learn each other’s rhythms soon enough.” He crooned through the wind.

                “Where are we headed?” I insisted.

                “Hopefully toward trust. Just keep pedaling.” Devon had a way of making a blind person feel like he could step off a sidewalk without a guide or knowledge of  traffic and be ok.

Before I knew it we were in front of the Brooklyn Museum.

                “Welcome to the moon.” Devon said with that Cheshire smile.

                “Well, I guess you can get a pretty good view of the moon from here if it were night time.” I shrugged.

                “Yeah, that’s true. But you said you wanted to walk on the moon and that’s on the inside of the museum.” He affirmed.

                “Wow, really? They managed to fit the whole moon inside this museum? Amazing”

                “You really are facety Kokoro. How about we go inside and see just how much of the moon there is.”