I saw the way you laughed, the facetious
grin, felt proud to have been conquered. most painful when it’s involuntary,
such truest positions—a fret in a feeling coming to take its stage. so baffled,
so addled, so alive—like hell is good, treated like dung, a body never so
titillated. I get to watch, if emotion is dead, it might take years to heal.
many earthquakes. many more assumptions. science isn’t acquiescing. I was seated inside, moving slowly, I saw
hands all over art—the feeling as it breathes, pieces of skies, tears meaning
nothing made catharses. one day. it
took one night. she’s now at her wedding; the bride is pristine, pure, it took
one night. the rest are distorted,
asking for resumes, moving beyond the sensuous encounter. others need to feel,
need those four weeks, so wild, void of religion—the science of the body, our
senseless rules, so damn angry they judge passion; more control, more
ostracism, so proud to have been touched. strange hands, doing strange things,
with no account of histories; a radical raven, rare in races, many roads to
revere. I sound like a child. I sound like a prude. I better not be a
hypocrite.
