1. Let me introduce myself; abruptly, the sky changes to the same hue of the sound, anyone can see it, anyone who is looking. It becomes time for other things, other ways of seeing, touching, even breathing.
2. This comes in waves. In each borrowed minute we must be mindful of the tendrils of energy the sun has left behind.
3. Realizing this, I enter the smoke-room, smokeshow, black everything except eyes green. We don’t do this anymore, but indulge me. Men crowd the bar. L and I order gins and sidle up against everyone who looks like they’re supposed to be here and for once I don’t want to discuss trees, or heaven, I want to move as one cohesive body on that dance floor. Not unlike magma, or saltwater.
4. A few moments pass and M texts me drunk from Virginia, she has a confession that she translated Derrida and Foucault and dovetailed a poem in a moments notice for a workshop on the definition of sex. I grow tired of talking at the bar and remember Barthes, how the proclamation of love is self-renewing like the Argo and its complicated affair with identity, capital-S Self. I wonder if Derrida––or Jackie as we called him lovingly on the porch, in wine, on a haze of a summer evening, almost touching––in his most intimate moments knelt on parched earth and prayed for these things.
5. He and I are stumbling along the wet streets at dawn, nibbling scones from the sunrise bakery before returning home.
The joy is in saying he and I, the joy is in the word home.
6. It is time to come back––there are peach blossoms tapping the window, and billows in the sheets. They always had billows and ruffles, and in the housekeeping there were ruffles and tangles, and work to be done, and linens to be smoothed and foreheads to be kissed.
7. J, if I could write music I would have written this one for you. I write poetry instead, by that I mean, they have figured out a way to weave sonic textures into simple, usually the simplest phrases, and those I give to you.
8. It is now well into the morning. The morning, please, remember, I exist, I exist.