The dummy

Worn around the edges. Carry a big stick that turns into a snake when you lay it before pharaoh. The dummy can wink one eye or blink both eyes; a separate lever moves its eyebrows; it can also do the "wide-eyed" look. What am I ventriloquizing now? I twitch my mouth "seductively" ( but not really; that's my illusion). So weary as if beaten up. Hatred as a kind of manacle. Love, and the memory of the feeling in hand of cock, starts to seem fake. Assyria. Great bearded rulers, scented oils in the beards of the rulers, beard as power emblem. What if I made or had made a giant stone sculpture of myself... with a beard? Someone would say I was trying to be miss center of the universe, this he would say while fingering his stubble or stroking his... I notice I look closely at men's faces, how the hair grows there. My muses have sandy-feeling cheeks, rough chins, soft mushrooms, etc. I notice this in the beach light and ache. When Gary left he said something resentful about how I had described the body of my first lover as smelling like dried grass. He almost spit out those words with tears, "dried grass." He must have thought I didn't love him, but that was not true. I was terribly angry at him, and I felt so sad with him, because he was there but not there, but I always loved him, which I guess is just my problem now, isn't it. I wish I could pinpoint the exact moment he, in his words, "fell out of love with" me. Was it the day I stepped out of the plane at JFK to come live here? Was it the moment the planes hit the towers? The moment his tongue first slipped into another one's mouth? Or was it the day he decided to leave? Are emotional states quite so distinct? How fickle fickle fickle a thing is Man. Someone must have put too much maudlin into my tea this morning. And the almonds in my cookies are the weeping eyes of centuries of deserted wives. Cue the violins here to swell and fade into a subzero haze.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone