King of the Desert

My supermarket stocked-up mind is continuously trying to find connections, some contiguous suggestion that will weaponize each mention of an idle fact or two. And I remind myself quite often that brilliance is not coughing out your lungs and then reaching for another cigarette – but I forget so many things and then must relearn them each night. My tectonic teeth are shifting places and changing from white into some dingy coffee shade oh and my wallet won’t behave – it wants to jump onto the bar and ask the servers to be played with, flirting with not only waitresses but registers it pays with a really too-generous tip. I slip back into a quieter, solid state of being when my one arm is around you, and my eyes’ edges are seeing small hallucinations flicker like when light reflects on fans, anchored to a consciousness only by your hand tracing patterns on my shoulder.

~ by perfectionatrix on June 25, 2012.

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