a little romance with life

well aren't you lucky, you fools in love to be so naked in the middle of winter and yet be the warmest of us all

there is something about a duplex which says a house can be one and still be divided everything an effort to be able to reach out who’s story sits in the corner-most room the flickering light that will not be fixed the cobwebs beneath chairs and behind beds who gets the mattress when two sharing a room fight who gets the AC, who gets the pillow, and how there is something about a duplex and the terror of stairs- from underneath the fear of a horror movie, a face staring from between the gap, from the upper floor the coming to life of a family drama you did not want to watch there is something about concrete and two floors that still cannot shield children from the shouts and cries, everything becomes quieter, the voices become clearer; the horror of stairs where you sit listening closely to the swords of words a battlefield, your childhood the collateral damage to a burning family; listening closely to the beating of your own heart there ...

the patterns of well-rehearsed fingertips hands remembering rhythms of the body like the beat of a song you’ve heard every day; who said a game for two (or a few) can’t be played by one?

the witch hunt alone in all godly hours she mutter spell under breath jibber jabber to world it is she who fell the rain it is she who drown the land it is she who travel the air it is she shake the earth it is she the wild hair stay unchained in wind it is she the laugh reach ear at night it is she burn in rising flame it is she who never die it is she in café-bar it is she who get drink it is she in library behind book it is she who get the wink it is she echo in hollow monument it is she fly in bird wing it is she who serve food with little long witchy hand it is she who give comfort with jibber jabber spell it is she whose breast you suckle it is she whose vagina you lend it is she whose milk you drink it is she whose blood you born.