The means of change can be salacious. On occasion it happens by way of things like pulling down pants zippers slowly. The methodic clicks of the copper teeth separating in sequence prompting the body to roll it's hips towards the loss of self. Towards becoming a modular piece of a whole new creature, a many limbed Vedic god writhing out of the primordial waters, this blue carpet, this whole room is now the first cosmic place. Our faces dumb with it. Our new reeling form reflected in the mercurial lenses of door knobs and furniture hardware, in the shine of glazed ceramic lamp bases, in the shiny dark gray of an empty tv screen... A reflection of brahman bouncing through all time and space, bouncing through the universe that is that room.
When it's over we hit the luncheonette.
I stir some cream into my black tea forming miniature spiral galaxies. You sit across from me, staring out of the window, contemplating the repercussions, making yourself paranoid. You ask me if I'm dating someone, praying for me to answer that I am. I pull myself away from the cosmic clouds, the lactic space gas piercing the spiced dark matter and quietly answer no, my disappointment in the question audible in my voice.
Location:Bettlewood Ave,Oaklyn,United States
