I took up my position, on the doorstep, not quite supine.
For, yes, that's what it was, positioning - a pose- striking.
Sure.
Struck.
To read, re-begin my Iranian odyssey...
Mirrors of the Unseen.
Unseen reflections within me, glaring.
The tingling in my womb... It had been almost three weeks since I'd stopped taking the pill.
Some three weeks, almost, too, since he'd quit, that drug that was "us"...
The narcotic mess...
Surely there should be sang (,pas froid)?
By now?
Bye.
[Rien...]
Was it him I felt in there, residual he?
Demi-Demi-Algerie?
A quart of something exotic...? I didn't know... What even to hope?
Yes and no.
Not the ideal binding ties, nope.
Not at all.
NO!
Was I a T?
An "I wouldn't have minded if you'd gone ahead with it because it would have meant a lifelong link to you"...?
No, surement pas!
Non...
I'd spent the morning walking sublime cliffs and masturbating in blissful seclusion.
The afternoon wandering deserted and breathtaking city backstreets.
And that waitress, wasn't she just desirable? Candidate-like... A possibility...?
Waiting.
(Sweating.)
You couldn't do all that en santé, could you?
(Sweat you could...)
Don't sweat.
Those feelings...
It's probably just indigestion love.
Probably...
Love.
[Silence]
[Silence]
 |
| Unclear emotions, mostly + |
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