Monday, August 22, 2011

cgs/y the boys in the band so handsome and silent type like

this is just an outline.
she leaves and he panics, mothers and fathers, this is how it is here (it doesn't have to mean it's me).  it's the anniversary of their wedding, and she is going to the beach and he is going to the hospital, and they both offer to the 3rd son a chance to look at the wedding pictures...black and whites of 1964, beautiful people in hornrim glasses...priests looking like priests look before they grew beards and started looking like like like jesus or something (that was a fad that lasted just a short time in this part of the world)...people posing and quoting how people look in wedding fotos...parents of the bride and groom looking a little wise and happy so happy and delighted and a little bit proprietary, and the kids are looking so wonderfully grateful to be part of this new family...wedding fotos of people who are pretending to be people posing in wedding fotos...this is a time when women had a little extra junk in the trunk, and men slicked back their hair like marlon brando with heat in his fists...snap pictures a moment before everything unwinds and we all fall apart, spinning out of control like rubber bands inside a baseball, and we all fall apart...
this is the first time it's been inhabiting the world of men for a long time, mom is gone and inside the house there is a papa who is sleeping and a brother who is sleeping and there is a dog barking at the gate...the scene lasts for only 20 minutes, and to make the most of it, i put wd-40 on motorcycle chains and pump hot air into hot fucking tires and my hands are covered in grease and smell like steel and i think about food, hot red meat, and i think about how to find the woman lost under the cover of night with a boy who wears bling around his neck and has reggaeton on his cell (i mean, come on, really?  that's so cute, and he's just a little skinny boy), and how to open her mouth to me, and how to make sparks on railroad tracks and become wolf in a rainstorm, this is the world of men, and it's metal seeps under my fingers and i turn to the house and everything goes absolutely dreamy again...
greens and blues and blacks with streaks of red come seeping through the cracks under the garage door, no, the world of men is far away, twenty years ago or more, this is the ocean underwater the bottom of the sea where everything looks like desert and the weather is about to turn unbearable...this is an androgynous transgender unnamed category brother from another other mother other world...the sea gets into everything, and for all the order of the railroad tracks, this is the place where my breath starts to become certain, four beats in and four beats out, and four beats in and five beats out, and five beats in and five beats out, and no one knows what lies at the bottom of the sea, and death is always around, and the blood runs through the veins like the rivers are the veins of the world and water is our blood.
and.
i'll see you there on the other side of the moon.
last night was all about the ocean, dreams about living under the sea all night long, and i woke up with my throat so sore, from having been singing or keening, and today dad goes to the hospital and we're going to get news, and i don't know why the ocean is everywhere, maybe i do, but i want to ask, really, what the fuck is going on, i mean really what the fuck is going on?  (and who the fuck is roslyn?)


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