SCENE
An ill wind that blows nothing. Autumn eats its leaves. It’s hard enough to understand the sequence of things--the king becomes the queen, the queen becomes the joker, and so on. No face is new, those who surrender must. Look and see how men conduct themselves around their would-be lovers. You cannot dream about sex until you’ve had it. It’s a bloody mess but it’s about to get bloodier.
SCENE
When I was still a fetus my mother told me the wrong stories. This is the cock, this is the screw. “Oneself” meaning one’s place in line. Men abandon ship, the blackbirds open their long hands to take us. I assume the position in white socks. All of my friends are dressed in neckties. A field is nearly dark. I am the man the man declined to be. Jacking off, I am surprised how easily everything bleeds.
SCENE
The sunrise struggles to assert itself. The apple begins its decent. In a field of flowers the rifle take aim. A film of the war plays in the eyes of my cat. In the new world, statistics replace mythology, information is the story I tell myself. Theoretically I love you. Even tied to a dock the boat travels one thousand miles of water. Whatever hasn’t happened never will. Nowhere is the future. Birds are broken glass. You and I disappear.
SCENE
Now that the policemen are here, the sex can begin. The men start their engines. They remove their hats as if at church. Preferring painful memories, we make pain. Cut flowers bleed down the throat of a bottle. Imagine a world where everyone plays with dolls. Already I know too many things by what they are named and not by what they are. I’m shaped like a man. Seeing a hole in the ground I see myself.
SCENE
The kid takes the candy bar, the batter takes the pitch. After much anticipation and shame, the long wait for the sex doll had ended and man could begin to remove and replace various parts as one might rearrange a puzzle, an anatomical mapping, he raises her arms, for example, to cover her eyes. Everywhere the smell of wet and heavy feathers. A mirror reflects the rational sun. No less than instinct is the cannibalism of the animals. It’s a bad habit, wanting to understand. Toys bob in a swimming pool.
