Saturday, June 24, 2006

Excerpt from Calling Dr. Love

Thanks for the invitation ;-)
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.....I’m not dead yet. I’m not. I’m not existing in God’s ethereal dimensions. I have read the options June places before me, and I frown:

1) Knock on the door three times, enter slowly, proceed up the gilded staircase
2) Go to the last shared library, read The Birds aloud in Greek
3) Claim you have the virus
4) Choose between fire or ice

.....Outside an original fire I see ice in cinder block formations. An interruptive timer. I will build a bizarre world out of penne and zitis. Life will be tangible once more. June? You’re growing red again--is it the fire? No. Your mouth is an afterbirth lunch I try to eat with both hands. And you speak in meat-sliding-off-the-bone riddles. I cannot decode you, June. You’re randomly fucking me in the eye with wishbones, garbage tins, my last spontaneous thing lurking underneath a fixed rock. I’m open, show me the way back to Lesbos. Tell me I’m running on gasoline and biodegradable trash.
.....And fire? Ah, June, I see you’ve been reading Wilde’s plays. Who is it? A Woman of No Importance? I believe it’s the scene Caroline and I fumble over--what’s that of fire? We play, we play because we can. And men? They play and get burned, don’t they? So I’m safe with option four. Safe to not singe or balloon into a heavy martyr. Write me on the walls in your calligraphy bathroom stall. Write me next to can-can and 1-800-blowme. Think of wind, June. Think of the letters I will write to you in the heat of the moment, the pressure of samisen blasts from Sahara mouths.
.....Why do you still walk around naked reciting his plays? I am afraid I’m not like you, June. I would leave my nakedness up to the imagination. I’ll wear socks, maybe a petticoat, a cinched hourglass corset--be fashionably out of style. We're not kids anymore. I'm not going to show you mine if you show me yours.
.....But you'll always try to slip me into your flesh odysseys, and I'm sure if you keep trying I'll finally break.

5 comments:

Loki said...

People should be less worried about commentary, shouldn't they? What are they expecting to happen?

Matina said...

A fatal car crash--twisted limbs of baby spark plugs....oh so much. Oh so much.

Cherilyn Ferroggiaro said...

Thanks for the post - ppl are so inhumane at times, yea? xo

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