11 Sep 2013, 1:29pm
Writing
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This way to open me

I like that you’re afraid to be seen peeing/see me peeing.
We just met 15 years ago and already I can’t get enough of you,
your liquid honey body gold sweat, sheen, perspiration,
perfume and pee-smell. If you ever let me see you be seen
there will be such a soft rain so hard such a weirdness,
the flies buzzing seepage for all our undone (spread) undone choix,
which means choices in French. And that will be fine…
The less I see of your naked body wet in the afternoon rain /
the room in the rain the more I want to smell it, to see it
the more I want to be able to gossip about you /
the fruit flies remember the time they got in the kitchen
and we couldn’t get them to go (in fact it is right now) /
I remember what I don’t remember well what I crave most constantly /
full contact with you, communion, let us be Satanists & celebrate a weird mass /
we’ll not call it black because that is a noncolor / we’ll call it dark—
that suits us/so, we’ll do it / or, let’s look at a light,
dying landscape together, dry old and wrinkled / bony veiny hands close /
I’ll put my penis in a jar of formaldehyde—you’ll appreciate that /
you can keep it all of the time / the irony /
only when I see you shave your legs with the door half cocked
razor sliding up and down along your smooth half-smooth shaved legs
do I realize how much we still have yet to get to know one another.

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