one down and nine to go
my heart still beats the waltz (throb-throb-throb') and my head's still spinning since you sent it like a top across the atlantic ocean.
i testify. never wanted to spend any time in a beach resort, and especially not a beach resort for a bunch of hard-boiled fucking easter eggs. hoards of cruise ships and fat midwestern asses bulging out of khaki shorts. breath-taking, titillating, this landscape.
everyone here is dead and smiling, and parts of me start to atrophy.
flesh and fluid dissolving in the heat. dissolving in the vide. i am lying heliophobic. still all day while the sun sucks the life from me. belly-up to the great blue. my largest, most abused organ cooking under heaven. the clouds are laughing vapor, the only ones who get it. come down to kiss me with inaccessible lips.
there is a tree near the pool who is not a tree at all, but a nymph turned upside-down and buried up to the pelvis. her long lady's legs emerge from the earth, scissor-kicking like a synchronised swimmer. twigs and leaves start to sprout from the knee on down and i wonder what happened to her feet. i want to caress her and count her rings. something alive but immobilized. only senses i don't understand. incapable of protest or reciprocal deceit. i want to possess and defile her. cut her into firewood and carve her into a fish.
there is still some disgusting soft sliver of me that's come to the surface of the bog, wanting to be coddled and comforted. held like a baby animal until the blood swells my veins up like rivers beneath my skin. i feel myself whining and pulsating like the most pathetic creature alive. needing. hopeless.
poor leonard is distressed by his calling to be a prophet. a brown-eyed angel dressed in green fatigues. a vegetarian and a chemist. language-fiend and bearer of truth. he talks to me about girls and god, the world and the island and i slip into a sudden deluge. my range of vision starts to go black. occipital elizabeth loses her footing. slips into the wormhole. my stomach's sending some foul, deadly solution up my spine to submerge me.
i stumble to sit down while leonard takes off like a chivalrous rocket, grand hopes to save me with a glass of water from the kitchen on the hill.
they said it must've been the heat...
today the (ex)ambassador holds a special meeting to give a rap about the "deterioration of the haitian situation." he also says, in reference to the scheduled 4th of July party, "we're gonna blow the roof off this town! if i'm gonna leave they're gonna think they're under seige! ha-ha-ha!" (he looks left and right, but there's not another chuckle in the room.)
his lips and fingers look like he's been eating arsenic-powdered donuts, and he resembles a quenelle or a lump of raw baker's dough, destined for greasy goodness. he rides around in a big black SUV with flags on each side and makes his chauffeur drive him to the hilton, half a block from the embassy, since i suspect he risks being transformed into a flaky, delicious pastry if he stays too long in the bahamian sun.
there are four smiling, stray canines who frequent the house in search of food and love. they do not have fleas and i adore them.
however, there are still the interns to be tamed.
corpulent mary rose waddles down the stairs to make pancakes. amanda the swedish man strings beads into homemade jewelry.
amanda is the alpha female, and screeches the loudest, while the cautious mary rose affirms her own identity by trying to guess what amanda will say next and then screeching it in synch with her.
they have not yet accepted me into their pack, and make frequent trips to the toilets to conspire, intentionally neglecting to invite me. i am observing them closely, though, and learning to speak their language, with all the appropriate interjections of grunts and guffaws. i will soon perfectly simulate the mating call of the marines, to lure the girls into my presence, then i will provide them with bottles of bud light as further incentive, and soon enough they'll be eating out of my hand like good little rabbits.
until then there's always villa vortex between my legs.
i testify. never wanted to spend any time in a beach resort, and especially not a beach resort for a bunch of hard-boiled fucking easter eggs. hoards of cruise ships and fat midwestern asses bulging out of khaki shorts. breath-taking, titillating, this landscape.
everyone here is dead and smiling, and parts of me start to atrophy.
flesh and fluid dissolving in the heat. dissolving in the vide. i am lying heliophobic. still all day while the sun sucks the life from me. belly-up to the great blue. my largest, most abused organ cooking under heaven. the clouds are laughing vapor, the only ones who get it. come down to kiss me with inaccessible lips.
there is a tree near the pool who is not a tree at all, but a nymph turned upside-down and buried up to the pelvis. her long lady's legs emerge from the earth, scissor-kicking like a synchronised swimmer. twigs and leaves start to sprout from the knee on down and i wonder what happened to her feet. i want to caress her and count her rings. something alive but immobilized. only senses i don't understand. incapable of protest or reciprocal deceit. i want to possess and defile her. cut her into firewood and carve her into a fish.
there is still some disgusting soft sliver of me that's come to the surface of the bog, wanting to be coddled and comforted. held like a baby animal until the blood swells my veins up like rivers beneath my skin. i feel myself whining and pulsating like the most pathetic creature alive. needing. hopeless.
poor leonard is distressed by his calling to be a prophet. a brown-eyed angel dressed in green fatigues. a vegetarian and a chemist. language-fiend and bearer of truth. he talks to me about girls and god, the world and the island and i slip into a sudden deluge. my range of vision starts to go black. occipital elizabeth loses her footing. slips into the wormhole. my stomach's sending some foul, deadly solution up my spine to submerge me.
i stumble to sit down while leonard takes off like a chivalrous rocket, grand hopes to save me with a glass of water from the kitchen on the hill.
they said it must've been the heat...
today the (ex)ambassador holds a special meeting to give a rap about the "deterioration of the haitian situation." he also says, in reference to the scheduled 4th of July party, "we're gonna blow the roof off this town! if i'm gonna leave they're gonna think they're under seige! ha-ha-ha!" (he looks left and right, but there's not another chuckle in the room.)
his lips and fingers look like he's been eating arsenic-powdered donuts, and he resembles a quenelle or a lump of raw baker's dough, destined for greasy goodness. he rides around in a big black SUV with flags on each side and makes his chauffeur drive him to the hilton, half a block from the embassy, since i suspect he risks being transformed into a flaky, delicious pastry if he stays too long in the bahamian sun.
there are four smiling, stray canines who frequent the house in search of food and love. they do not have fleas and i adore them.
however, there are still the interns to be tamed.
corpulent mary rose waddles down the stairs to make pancakes. amanda the swedish man strings beads into homemade jewelry.
amanda is the alpha female, and screeches the loudest, while the cautious mary rose affirms her own identity by trying to guess what amanda will say next and then screeching it in synch with her.
they have not yet accepted me into their pack, and make frequent trips to the toilets to conspire, intentionally neglecting to invite me. i am observing them closely, though, and learning to speak their language, with all the appropriate interjections of grunts and guffaws. i will soon perfectly simulate the mating call of the marines, to lure the girls into my presence, then i will provide them with bottles of bud light as further incentive, and soon enough they'll be eating out of my hand like good little rabbits.
until then there's always villa vortex between my legs.