July 14, 2017How did the certainty of this analogous situation disperse without conscience effort on my behalf?
The little dubious delvings recalled once and subtle, had tempted a nostalgic arrogance this side of reason.
And we tempted fate, you and I, with a levity now benign and bothersome.
How many episodes must one man endure as the yawning no longer yearns with the fawning of yesteryear?
The entire scope of it all surely did summon the situation in technicolor and carved in stone a latent truancy–a dismal and ringing modulation–through television static, evoking the old derailing drivel.
And love with its one soft syllable, haunted the haughtiness in her conversation; the deft detachment drowning the drone; embittered with bribery stemming from her bolstering psyche with certain significance.
The sink dripping still. The toilet incessant with its stubborn gargle.
Lashes coming down in time-defying motion, slow like the insolent train that ignores the body on the rails, blurring like stealth foreign weaponry.
All was lost and she tried her hardest to ignore that fact. The idea was to live life, her mother used to say, as she smiled through the wrinkles and shied away the grey.
Nothing short of neckless abandon, head levitating and taciturn, my red balloon…slowly hovering, turning corners, six feet above cobblestone streets, calling me and drawing me.
Hail this subterfuge, said its crimson reflection, bending obtusely streets below, arid lay the ground that crowns the frown. Knotted in sophisms dangling its cord, pallid and pubescent, fingers trembling beneath.
Tantrumed and tenebrous, the bare feet mangled in Matamoros, I was destined to destroy the fallacy of destiny and thrust forward on my floating throne, the vessel once the vassal, paragaon of pity, O child, sweet child of whine.
I promised not to promise and here are the hands, hammering at the typewriter keys, with ten arbitrarous jurors
jacking off and waiting for the joke that never did arrive.
∞
