there
was flypaper about the home. mandarin on the table. and a little boy seated on
the couch. I walked in motion I greeted the lady we were moving through dreams.
a baby shark in its tank, a few gold fishes in jars a little fluffy rabbit with
huge teeth. they say those crack bone. we would kill it of course. but who
needs that experience? the lady was seductive, sensual, sexy, she spoke in a
low voice, her body languished around the apartment, she undressed — it seemed
unreal. I saw mushrooms plus ecstasy, the little boy was playing with them. so
surreal, as to ask, “Is that cool?” she reassured us, some message in a ball, I
unhanded the little boy. those items now higher, upon a refrigerator, she
exclaimed, “I’m too short.” it’s fine I suggested as I squinted at a piker, it
zipped with passion. her pupils were twilight her amusement was genders her
mouth was dry, crackling lips, a gray tongue. “Are you thirsty,” I asked. she
smiled, such cocaine white teeth. “I’ll have a sip,” she stated. I brought
water. she laughed. “I’ll have vodka, instead.” my partner Gloria was smitten.
they kept eyes locked. they never realized their kiss. the little boy wanted to
play. I thought he was interesting. but I came to move an armoire. the lady
said, “Be chill, relax, look at my purple contacts.” those two were in screams
or tunnels as some believe in new beginnings. we fail to notice, high doesn’t
mean controlled, most souls can’t define remedy — to puzzles as seated on
cardboard while brains are parental trees. I remember her name, something
exotic, as in Adrianna. she called me close, I obliged, she darted her tongue. I
kissed back. I pulled back. Gloria said, “You’re a bit lit.” there was mold, at
each corner, we pointed to it. Adrianna just laughed, the little boy laughed, I
was certain he was unaware of his laughter. it must have been a look, for
Adrianna was suspicious of laughter, she withdrew her laughter. she was now
angry. those tarsier eyes. I felt guilty. “Are you alright,” I asked. “Yall
aren’t having fun,” she exclaimed. Gloria was kind. she said, “We worry about
the little boy.” Adrianna smiled, like dear Milky Way, such mis-operation, such
a tale dreamt in a cellar. those few we meet aside a jerboa or unspent cobras.
