by lesson we mean
pain, so trite to confess it, too contrite to live it. I devastate in problems I
exist a lie I adore in private. Love is mythical or mystical or an essence bent
on power. so darling to see so dear to hear while a hart pants at its river. by
violin to study by chants to awaken to say it’s more than friendship. like a
ghost, at that moment, I was just screaming her name. so failed at it. so gray
with it. Americans don’t like intimacy. a hard claim, a vacuum on life, so
promised to adore this vagueness. to prove in me to die in me to exhaust a
feeling. too mysterious a harem in her sights while each is for a different
reason; to love this woman to share this woman while fighting a need to
dominate, or control, or possess this woman. like new Huaraches or an old trombone
or ghettoes in winter—those loquats those grapes those Armani denims; indeed,
to look at a person to rectify an emotion while it felt good to laugh—so forgotten
such Versace a young adult reading Deontology or Dianetics or wrestling
Dialectics; a cold machine a small crush where Love was giggling. it was
innocence it became muddy it was oh so beautiful. mother laughing father gone
the neighbors barbequing. I now itch the flesh is bloody the might is
righteous. to admire an armor to anxiety an art while anchored to a false
beginning. the man in the Asian the woman in the African the American in Trump.
so turned sideways such a sidewalk or tears in some aloof bucket. I need to go
deeper. I need to tell the truth. I would die for a woman honest in her
horizon.
so much Gabbana so much Hilfiger such a Negro trying
too hard. to laugh with Love to ignore the rain for I need another lesson!
