Tuesday, March 17, 2015

her and her

They liked all the same shit that they could tell no one else about. Teasing the delivery guy. Inviting the delivery guy inside themselves. Bringing the delivery guy close to climax then sending him back out onto his route. Only to invite him in again and finish it all in sweat and laughing glory. They liked watching each other come. She thought that she was prettier than her. She thought that she was prettier than her. But they were both pretty.

They told one another things that they didn't feel like telling everyone else. She would talk about this bad thing that happened to her once in a forest when she was young. She whispered about moments of her life heavily decorated with loss. She said that loss was like lazy Christmas lights that didn't come down until a couple months before they were to be strung back up. The other one said that while everyone else saw a carousel, she just saw the first thing that had ever trampled her. Then they held each other like shivering snow survivors and by morning were again like hot coals.

They went to Paris together. She knew a rich old man who liked to be treated like scum. He would give them his credit card and tell them to buy whatever they'd like but that was his only demand.  He wanted them to walk around his apartment ignoring him. He wanted them to berate him like a dog when they caught him in their panty drawer. He said all the neglect made him feel cared about. Quickly, they grew bored. Not just as part of the act. They grew bored and they left, burning everything they'd bought with his card in one of the palatial fireplaces. It was a fair way for all parties to say goodbye.

They were a hello. The way they kept speed together by travelling to remote island countries and living on ten bucks a day with dirty hair and clothes. It became a game, who could get dirtier. It never ceased to amaze them the attention they would still get from men and women alike. The pungent smell of filth would become a deep fuel. Then they'd stumble across a stream, watering hole, ocean and jump in. One afternoon it rained. They were on a motorscooter and after pulling it off to the side of the road began climbing up through jungle. She always trusted her intuition.

They arrived at pools of pristine jungle water clearer than anything ever before seen in the light. It was splendid the way it foretold places and experiences in this Universe that were waiting, are waiting, to be touched. Waiting to be recognized. Calling to us even as we sit and stare oblivious. And sometimes if lucky it helps to have a partner in crime. And sometimes if lucky we arrive at one of these places and moments in time where our souls get smacked and grabbed and awoken and told the significant secret that involves learning and knowing and adventuring as much as our human energy will allow and then more more more all these unexplored perfections are begging us to break down their doors. Everything we can portend, imagine, fail to grasp wants to become known.

They felt lucky to have known a moment in these forms together, their breasts touching beneath the enchanted waters and basic atomic fields equally grateful to briefly contain them like a painting in a museum with their ever blossoming hearts