Tuesday, 17 August 2010

aperitif, senorita?

how I may help you begin your day before the sun has risen and fifty seven stories up in a five star hotel on an island caribbean or off the black sea salt air the cossacks once inhaled in knowing they were more than meagre peasants. may i carry you the glass cylindrical bowl from the chiller to your poolside indoor outdoor mist of morning, place it gently down whereby i pause a moment for you to admire the manicure of indian lavender you chose one week earlier one thousand three hundred or so miles away on the opposite side of the tropic of cancer?
Photograph by Katya, 08/10
where we cut through the tourists as the longboats cut through the channels outside peking on our last visit to what you called the 'outskirts of hong kong' and had me laughing in my mini so that i was struggling just to keep balance, and thank god and goddess alike for the 2% spandex in the purple band lining the top of my 40s fitzgerald, zelda sayre era fell to the floor anyway by the rapture of you in my presence, in the am early hours of a tuesday posing as a friday with us on the bed soon turned to queen, the grass soon lightened to green, love of you, 2 B with you, to be seen with you, 2 B on scene on point jail broken joint punctured with needle sharp, clean, by geisha spy risen high and american by blonde so to be made fond of pressure and acumen in capitalisms shadowy caged prisms of true light we emanate blue and white, true and truly now, can you hear it? feel it? you know -- out of mind, close to heart, out of sight.