XXIII.
Master came home humming a tune, humming an old song, came back from a
conference where sHe talked and kept his place in the world, came through the
door humming something, something I remembered without thinking, words swam
up bubble-like to the top, boiled into consciousness and popped into my mind where
I sang along fit some words into the tune water into a glass transparent and clear they
crept out of my mouth in liquid form and many colors milkwhite, mother of pearl, I
said, I wouldn't trade you for another girl.
Turn the lights way down low, turn up the hi fi. Get the picture? But you, never you
mind, coming round the corner, Wooh wooh! Have you a future? no, No, No, Yes!
NOOOOoooo.
Well I've been up all night again party time wasting it's, too much fun.
Then I step back thinking of life's inner meaning and my latest,
fl-ing. It's the same old story, all of that glory, it's a pantomime.
If you're looking for love in a looking glass world it's pretty hard to
find. Divine intervention, always my intention, so I take my time. I've
been looking for something I've always wanted but was never mine, now
I've seen that something just out of reach glowing - very holy grail -
lustrous lady of a sacred world. Thus, even Zarathustra, another time
loser could believe in you. With every goddess a let-down every idol a
bring down, it gets you down, but the search for perfection, your own
predilection goes on and on, an on.
Take refuge in pleasure, just give me your future, we'll forget your past
- ah lonely dreamer, it's your cameo, so so semi-precious in your detached
world - oh mother of pearl I wouldn't trade you for another girl.
SHe sat down with a glass of wine smiling at
me.
"Is that it?" SHe says, "I heard it on the radio maybe, coming back
in
the cab. Have you been having a good time while I've been away?
Or,
is that song dedicated to me?"
I took the glass out of his hand, took a gulp -
white I never drink - and
spit it at her face. I caught the first rivulet with my tongue, let
the second
drop onto his shirt, followed it there, sucked it dry, poured the
rest of the
glass onto her pants.
"You're so wet," I purred, "So sticky. Where've
you been, up to London,
did you see that fucking queen while you were there, I don't like
him."
"So that's it," SHe says, his eyes turning to
slits as I suck, "Yes of course
I saw him, but it's you I come back to."
"Sticky, no," I say, getting up, "Slippery, yes."
And I go into the bathroom and turn on the faucet in the bath.
Water is where we overlap.