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Woman(?) In mirror
i Dust lifts when speculum spectators observe with disinfected eyes. They didn’ t want to look, so instead I filled in the gaps by returning to the impulsive sentences I wrote, remembered – dismembered. It’ s hard to fill the gaps, without much of an imagination and with no motivation at that.
One day, she asked me if […] came out of the blue, I was excited, so I couldn’ t sleep but to her, I looked exhausted.
There is a man in my café I’ m worried about. I’ ve never seen him with anyone else( please young lady, don’ t get too close), he smiled a pleasured smile when you asked him if he wanted pudding.
The nurse believes men are a strange breed‘ anyone can see it, even a blind man on a galloping horse’ she said. So it’ s not just me. Not m / any people follow her, but they do, does that make them perverted? They touch her hand, with a groping gesture, in the crowd. The first strike. She now needs a chaperone – I don’ t offer. Second strike. But the joyful Spanish serenade, from Father Misty’ s organ captured her(‘ and I haven’ t left your bed since’). 3
Pools circle her eyes, they radiate a lively sophistication –‘ I love her intelligence’ – she says as the honey bee choir sing their sentiments in further and further higher cadence.
‘ Never mind’ plays as the audience clap and tap. I played their game for a few years, until my lies cracked from side to side, but never got lost.
Staccato accents – like home- appeared. The clock tower hangs above the park side, reminding me of time passing, nicely. It slurs a smooth tirade of abuse.
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Father John Misty‘ Chateau Lobby # 4’ from I love you, honeybear, Bella Union, 2015, compact disc.