coffee #2
The next city is no fun. It is all rivers and muds and boats and sundials and wild ponies and apple orchards and Plath’s grave (Hughes). We do not pick at the thread we left, instead put new sheets on the stripped bed and beginning our motions again. Today is the day for new lovers! A river muscles by my feet, taunting me with excess strength. I tell my lover, do not worry, for I am even stronger than this river– I have so many, hundreds of muscles.
I am bursting with myocytes.
The frog laughs at me, and I…
Sip.
(mmm)
Looking at his hand, awestruck… simply and, may I admit, cleverly, redefine desire. It is no longer a strong feeling of wishing something to happen. It is no longer the blind man that craves sight.
In due course, I will write to the papers and let them know of this extraordinary discovery:
‘Redefinition Of Bodily Desire’
I am the best columnist in all the land. I’m actually fairly famous – I tell my framed lover. Actually, really, QUITE famous. I smoke menthol cigarettes with the celebrities. We crunch glass in bleeding mouths and dance on tables before the flies wake up. Tight trouser tango on the bathroom floor, noses full of stallions and eyes darting around; we talk all night long about how popular everybody is. Earnest forthcomings nip at our heels, we just humbly kick them away. Beige cocktail parties are kind of my thing – you know?
Really, rather famous… I glance back. He looks tremendous in this new location.
My love for this stranger sits in a neat space outlining his grey hand.
I do not touch it for fear of allowing the tetanus (which has been chasing me since birth) to get inside. The tetanus freezes your muscles in time, I am aware my photo frame man inherited the clostridium tetani when he was first created, so am careful not to upset him with my real lies (he will surely rea-lise).
I know he has a heart of galvanized steel, so it will NEVER cease to beat inside his tense state. Poor, poor creature… I am so very kind and loving and sweet and sensitive…
If only inland revenue could see me now!
The taxman redefined society three years ago. Death of the working class was the political driving force. Turned us all into troglodytes, it did. Turned us into (pre)
socialites.
The hierarchy of rich and poor is something I wish neither to climb up nor slide down. I am happy where I am; in the coffee shop of beginners, sipping beside my blank lover. We don’t let society hold us back. We don’t let dentists hold us back. We sit only on yellow chairs.
I love the man in the frame according to how much I owe the bastard tax man.
Blossom Hibbert