Walking Around Naked

May 18, 2012


Purple Grapes

Its so big. All around us. Step ladders up a giraffe’s back. Kindness in the executioner’s swing. Every moment around me. An ambush. Of memory. I’m almost blind with joy. Even toward the banker who buggered me.

A cloud. In Russian trousers. The pink stain. In her white basketball shorts. Those sweet lips. Sucking. On those purple grapes. Walking around naked. Three o’clock in the morning. In the almost empty American rooms.

Rough. Skin. Like drapes. Fade. And sag. Your body is defeated by time. You scream like a child. Just give me one more turn.

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