There was more to this before the heart missed the beat. Before it skipped, shattering my illusion. I dare you to save this. Salvage my poetry ridden fantasies from this burned out hard-drive. Nano-chatter black and white. One zero One, insert laughter here. Insert her laughter, her lips, the texture of her silk wrap sari. Meta/physical.
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Matter tickles. It’s not quite an itch, nothing I want to scratch, but it makes me squirm. This candy wrapper, the structure of the material, I can see it. It’s pretty, the way one side shimmers, the way it has a half life like the sun.
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Ping like bone hitting schoolyard fenceposts. Reverberation, kick it again. The girl is underage, you can’t take her to the bar, but her barrettes might match your sheets. The wife’s at work this week, off in Alaska on a cruiseship. You want to bite the cheaply moulded plastic. You’re thinking about it already. The brown pig-tails on the starched bed would be such a turn-on. Tie her wrists to the headboard with a skipping rope purely for the perversity of it. You love it she’s in a miniskirt. Tough little scabby knees. Bet she runs around with the boys. bet she kisses them behind the portables. She’d know what to do with a grade six ass like that.
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I remember flying. Giant black wings spreading from my shoulder blades, it’s tangible. Ghost memories from too many movies. Sometimes I turn my head, expecting my cheek to brush starchy feathers. My soul brims a chord of deep loss when my hands don’t meet anything more solid than air behind my head, the empty curve of my back like a betrayal. I don’t trail my fingers through my hair anymore. It’s easier to pretend with all my mirrors broken.
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