Took a wrong turn.
he took a wrong turn
and now she is going to see that he burns for it.
It is not how it seems on the outside.
It is not coy and innocent.
They are all snake charmers and Cinderellas.
He drank until his liver ran out.
She brings hers in the car in a big giant coffee mug.
They drive along a rural highway at night. It rises and falls through the woods.
Ice rattles in a coffee mug.
He wants to castrate himself.
She wants to castrate him.
They carefully drive and obey the speed limits.
He might just make it if he can endure a little longer
And she, if she can be patient.
There is a bus station on the other side of the sellwood bridge
There is nowhere to stand and a young man waits in the road.
It is the last bus of the night that he is waiting for.
He thinks of how stupid he must be to get along by such chance, right before the last bus comes, standing in front of a wooded graveyard at 1 a.m.. He suspects the bus driver will pass him out of fear.
The night looks doubtful. He spent too much on drinks while he was on the populated side of the sellwood bridge.
The water underneath the bridge is solid mud; gray and pushing itself in a bitter, argumentative stream.
He feels like he has been standing in this place before. But he is only traveling through.
He decides that the place feels timeless.
He feels hopeless.
He can tell no one about the place.
He has no more money.
The order of events cannot be predicted.
He begins to feel nauseous.
She wants to dance alone
and the boys do not understand.
He comes over and asks her to dance.
She says no not right now.
He imagines meeting her again in twenty years at a conference on Chinese Medicine.
He goes back and sits down and watches her dance from the corner of his eyes.
She focuses on dancing but thinks about him sometimes.
She is an excellent dancer. She moves alone as a complete spectacle, able to capture attention by incorporating her entire body.
He looks for something to do with his hands while he sits there.
He doesn't want to be there anymore and considers leaving.
It took a lot for him to leave the house.
He cannot imagine the details of her thoughts.
He wants to know and tries to know more than anything.
He tries to write.
His dialogues are fake and she was created by him in the center of an arrangement of circular ruins. Her thoughts are comprised of his fantasies projected onto fictional places.
If he drinks he knows that he will drink in ghosts that will ravage his mind with their own coldness and agony.
He does not drink and he does not write.
He does nothing. He does not meditate.
He is not waiting.
His voice is sealed with shame.
He begins to feel like one person again. Him.
He does not feel better.
