No-where

"What is love?" He said, looking deeply into the midnight pools of her eyes, with a smile of relaxation and content upon his face.1

She kissed him one more time, passionately, mingling the taste of her saliva in his mouth with the single tear which had just barely touched the corner of his slightly upturned lips.2

In that single moment, amongst the crimson-streaked watercolors of the sky, the final ray of the setting sun evaporated from the cloudless aether, and left the dim silver of the rising, waning crescent in the east to reveal two lovers, lying on a tattered blanket draped over the top of a Volkswagen van; savoring together the sweet stillness of the abandoned Salt Flats, which stretched, an eternity of sterile isolation on all sides. Without a road for miles, even their tracks had disappeared in the summer breeze.3

The kiss ended, but in his heart, he wished that such pheromonal elation could last forever. He looked at her with longing, then leaned back and lay, staring up at the sky.4

She took some of the marijuana and rolling papers.
She fumbled with the lighter, took a drag, and then lay back beside him, exhaling the concupiscent smoke in a tumid evanescence.5

She offered him a drag.6

He mechanically endured the burn in his throat, knowing that soon, it wouldn't matter.7

He stared up emptily at the sky, releasing the suspended particles of ashen cannabis from the cavity of his chest.8

"What is a star?" He said, mindlessly repeating a phrase he had once heard in reference to philosophy.9

She took another drag, leaned over, and breathed the smoke into his lungs, as her tongue intertwined with his.10

He let the reflex of panic wash over him as he relaxed, and relished the loss of control.11

Once more, he stared, lost in the deep, dark eyes of midnight.
She blinked, and lay back down next to him, her warmth touching against his side.12

He lay his head against her bare chest, staring at where the desert faded into itself.
She lightly ran her fingers across his head, caressing his straight, black-dyed hair.13

She was rolling another joint.14

With a sigh of deep, whimsical satisfaction and mysticism, he whispered15

"We have invented happiness, you and I."16