So,
we're cuddled up at her place under a wolf blanket in the dark on that couch that was the shit in the late nineties,
big soft and rolls around the corner like an L with footpedals and cupholders and neckthrows and you plop like whatever's been done starts fresh this night.
You can't hate a van.
There was tinted lamplight and incense and candles flickin the eye like little diamonds to the pissoir and under cabinets and cat was somewhere once and my feet in someones slippers arm around post-coit undifferentiation closed eyes and purrs and leftover synapse twitches, ...and the tv screen on pause with an infinitude of everything and nothing at the whim of a finger or smileglance, and her computer limped up on a stand by my ear, dormant, ...wtf-in me, leave be.
She's longways on the lap legs seatbelt, toes painted purple, one little white lightning bolt zigging across the right ringtoe only, the little piggy that wanted none, right? So that's a nice picture, some morning birds, rain on the roof tapping the tin, the smell of effortless effort, relaxed everything, the foundation sighs turning over, faded tv semilight having went to sleep, ....warmth on warmth .....mmmm. .....she says under the mummy bag, what are you thinking about? ...Truth? ...
mmhmm
I was thinking how nice this is, how I could be here forever, you warm and right here, the cranberry candles, the paisley curtains, the little touches, the cute little bookshelf over there with your books..., we're quiet for awhile, let it be, let it be...nodding away ....indiscriminate time passes, a week, six minutes, what are you thinking about now? ....
...Now? I'm thinking about this is still nice, and what more is there, why be greedy. I could've died before you let me dream of it, ... you don't analyze your purring, self-consciousness is the death of art. She actually said is that what you're thinking? What? I don't know what I was thinking, I was non-thinking, the pc glow. What were you thinking of me. ok ...I was thinking for a moment I was genuinely happy, I wanted and need nothing and was at peace, my loved ones in their struggles knew me and what organs worked in that weren't defiled, they could have included the big malformed heart, the Grecian liver, the eardrums are shit. the old women will swarm me in hell and awl them out like Custer so I'll hear better in the afterlife.
So, ... I thought, so many deaths, so much dying around me, and no one giving a shit about a funeral, for the sake of loved ones the preference to be ashed and thrown in a ditch. I don't like that. Beliefs are one thing, courtesy is another.
Fuck the costs. It's nice for your likely and unlikeliness to cross paths, maybe the random symmetry isn't so random and new and old connections can be electrified, started, kick started, rekindled or just a look - a myriad of color on a life.
