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Small talk

By Edwin Torres

“Ah, day by swift malignant day / A window full of ancient things, and while / Forth from din, I wave the visible world away”… The outsider takes the hit, to let the insider in, I’m a door-prize for the angry bouncer with terrapin shades, faking my way through the in-crowd with pad in hand, it’s the end of the decade and I’m downtown, at a scenester party, penthouse, big apple skyscrape, i’m on the list, where the beautiful people exchange iStares, yeah sure, a friend of george the gallery owner, Sergio Montana, a spaghetti-western equivalent, scores a minor chord sonata-nanza by asking the woman for a drink, the man for a hug… “From out the inner cirque of Hell / For I am such dust / As vestment wrought with passion” …there was a friend here, someone looking like someone who used to be someone, hectic beauties of decay, no handsome men have arrived with the neck power to lead, that one, the window, a mirror of legs happening with leopard leotard stripes, I know you it’s been forever hasn’t it, the older one sees him, my hero, Disco 54, back when you meant something, a vanity pledge, to me i mean, a throne for three kings and one nascent star, the deejay, to play Giorgio, the nervous man reacts to his hero with ennui and asthma, DIA…i miss-loved allure, while the chimes come in to remind us how old we are, it’s my cell sorry, and who we last said love to, that silver lamé number, doing a face scrunch on my groin… “Let not stars suspect mystery / My lank limp lily, / Time drops / The amber dust of sunset fills” …pie-hole omnivirate, vacant hors d’houveres, covered in sanctity, her bangs trick her pupes, blondarino ex-punker Minkstolovich, this one goes to my gym, topless s&m at the cooler, you wanna meet, out of timers and loose wigs, never caught up to the 80’s… “The crystal flame, the ruby flame” … go ahead Video Mojito, walk by and pretend to use your media in the ear-splitting pump of my progression… “What have you seen, eyes of strange fire!” …the trumpet player jimmies the lock… “What have you seen!” …when he couldn’t stand the thought of her slipping out of his thumb, is when he woke up, are you taking notes, the dance floor, those quiet ones have the shiniest shoes, the writhing suit of mixed accents, shoot me a glance where i used to be, the stiletto pissing match, closing time, another open-bar movie star sleepwalks to the next late bar, noctambulist tikitak, and these sometimes subtle, sometimes embellished vagaries on condition and reflex, do they let you sleep if you purge them in mischief, intonate electra, the time for a promise is when no one knows what you’re saying, yes is all i need to start, that one looking through me, i see you taking notes, fashion plate gorgonzola scarf on wrinkled neck-hang, like Swedish skiing accident, without the martini… “What mass of gems the city wears / When from my cheek I lift my veil / Under the rose tree’s dancing suicide” …he told me he would leave me, supreme confidence can obscure perfection, but i told him i would love him, in its very reason of perfection, Chocolatta, you wanna meet, her maiden gams, thought it was me she was texting, paid appearance, just her cloven mouth moving, professional throat-rubber, i have a question, give us a header and divide one joy, would you rather be the soldier, before we kill our cascading 3 years of pleasure, or the war… “My long lithe lily.”

Posted in Uncategorized on Tuesday, January 5th, 2010 by Edwin Torres.