Sunday, April 4, 2010

The young man who haunted her adolescent dreams who made her squirm in her moist underwear. The beads of sweat that populate her skin then evaporate and are carried from her bedroom into the night by the night-wind, this elaborate story of traveling teenage steam in the night hidden from her in her trance, do you see the innocence in her face? Do you see her earnestness, her genuine surprise at her new feelings and her agony to hide them? You and your religious ideals. You who condemn her.
So you can guess what would happen if he were to appear sitting across from her in a cafe long after she thought she forgot her adolescent indulgences. What could her father do, even if that young man was me? You and your knife in my dreams about the structural vulnerability of my jugular vein. Did you know that she dreamed of me putting that knife into your chest? If I crash my motorcycle going as fast as I can the angels will catch me and gently set me down. I walk with the universe smiling at my back - I dance on the tight rope above the toothless sharks.