She Was No Longer A Slow Dreamer

Pianos, Unlike People, Sing When You Give Them Your Every Growl. They Know How To Dive Into The Pit Of Your Stomach And Harmonize With Your Roars When You’ve Split Yourself Open. And When They See You, Guts Shining, Brain Pulsing, Heart Right There Exposed In A Rhythm That Beats Need Need, Need Need, Need Need, Pianos Do Not Run. And So She Plays.

The Circus Tent Was Flowing Pale In The Rain Like A Fleshy Flower Lit From Within. It Seemed To Bloom In The Downpour. Drops Of Rain Caught On Rafe's Eyelashes, Blinding Him As The Circus Light Struck Them. He Groped For The Flap, That Slit In The Fabric That Would Reveal Her To Him. She Was On The Rope Again, Her Skirt Flashing With Tiny Mirrors, Hair Braided With Petals. He Looked Up At Her, Dizzy With It, Seeing Her Face Framed In The Parasol. There Were Bluish Shadows Around Her Eyes.

Under The Ground Seep The Toxins Of The Population That Lives Above. If You Have To, You Will Eat Roots And Earthworms. It Is Always Night. Candles Burn In Lanterns Made From Tin Cans. When It Is Nighttime Up Above, You Can Crawl Out, But Only For A Little While. You Feel Ashamed Of Your Matted Hair, Your Torn Clothes, The Dirt On Your Face. Who Would Want To Speak To You? They Are All Shiny And Pretty. They Have Parents And House With Gardens. What Do You Have? The Earth. Whole Handfuls Of It. The Lizard People With Their Slit Eyes And Scaly Skin. Your Loneliness. Your Longing.

I Was Staring To Learn How To Forget The Things That Made Me Sad. It Was Like A Charm You Followed Step-by-step, Collecting And Blending The Ingredients, Placing Everything In Its Proper Place, Reciting The Incantation. It Was The Magic Of Forgetting.

It Was Always A Relief When She Came Home To Him. Like Water Or Food. Like Music Or That Moment When You Cut Yourself With A Knife And Squeeze The Skin And No Blood Oozes Out.