They are on a fuckin raft.

HE: I love this raft.  I'm sorry there are so many people here.  We hardly get a chance to talk.

SHE: I would just keep telling you the same stories over and over again, anyway.

HE: I don't really care, I just like the cool way you look at me when you tell me stories.

SHE: This would be a good time to declare your love for me, in a public setting, because it will test your mettle and show me that you're really serious.

HE: You can take my word I'm serious, even though I'm not sure who you are yet.

SHE: I'm not the present, because I never land, so I must be something from your past, or something from your future.

HE: That's perfect, that's exactly what I fall in love with.

SHE: Tell me out loud, but I'm going to be honest.  I'm going to act embarrassed, and then I'll pretend this isn't happening, and then I'll pretend I didn't hear you, and for a week or two I'm going to avoid you altogether, just so you are off kilter just a little bit, hating me and loving me in the same breath.

HE: I think that's dangerous, just because I know of a guy who has that memory disease, and he gets stuck in time, and for the last year he's been stuck in this place where he declared his love for the woman he married, and she was silent like that, so he's been living in that space of being off kilter.  And he's really off kilter, too.  He wears kilts even though he's Mexican.

SHE: I don't think culture is something you can own, anyone can wear a kilt, it's uncanny like in Freud.

HE: You know what that does to me, that Freud talk.  It's really unfair.  I'm unhinged with Freud talk, and it makes me want you, want you, want you.

SHE: But.

HE: But there's all these people.

Another raft floats by, with figures from the land of the dead.

DEAD MAN: We have news about your father, it's an emergency.   You come with us.  Beauty fades, death comes.

HE: Oh, I have to go.

SHE: Just in time.

HE: No, this is the worst timing ever.  Please just tell me about the movie stars I remind you of, so I can work on becoming them the next time we meet.

SHE: Ok.

He gets on the raft of the dead, and they float away.

SHE: I'm carrying cock rings around my neck, to remind me of what I've always considered the ultimate act of desire and submission.  My neck is torn, I cut it in the brambles in between worlds, I was escaping, and all the pomegranate trees tried to capture me.  They can cut me, but they cannot keep me, but I have scars that you can never imagine.  I'm calling up my vicious graveyard spirits tonight, and they'll visit you in your dreams, to remind you of how things could be, and how they ought to be, and on a still October night, they might be the same thing.


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