keys to electra, encore

 

my mother had a wicked, somewhat sadistic sense of humor 

as a kid I was tested to be allergic to wheat after returning from a school field trip where the youth hostile we stayed at was directly next to a wheat farm in England and I came back violently ill. She was very much involved in astrology and so she got a big laugh at me and said, “you’re allergic to yourself!” —you see, because the symbol for Virgo is harvest and wheat. Years later right before I moved out, one day it was this time when I was desperate to get to work or I’d lose my job. We’d had a very big snow storm and a tree had fallen on top of my car from all the snow. So manic was I digging it out and wrestling this tree as —I’ve always been this size and could have used some help

she took pictures 

I’m a masochist and desperately loved her till the end and still do which should explain so much of my complexities psychologically —what good writing it provides though, hmm? 

flight as game/homage to Jack London 

“look at that beauty!” 

a lovely chase across a meadow 

humans turn so fast. 

cornered

“stop playing games!” said the hunter to the fox 

assateague island, couldn’t drag me away

 This is the island of the wild horses where getting lucky enough for a glimpse of one is all by chance. This is a rare occasion 

pour toi, parce que tu décodes mes symboles et que tu es toujours là

et apparaît toujours dans mes heures les plus sombres….

                    

♥️tack

 

Could not leave this turtle on the road

 

Don’t fall asleep; noir

 

don’t fall asleep

don’t fall asleep….What is that? It’s a dream. 

     no. no—we’re not here. up at the window. Watch the light

such a strange sick cold, both cold and too warm. the shouting occupies the mind, the awareness of all the blame ….don’t fall asleep, don’t start to think it is all right. don’t feel the way the chill rushes across that demon touch like icicles that cut with the splinters; jaggers across the soles of your feet. The sting is better than the terror, let’s hold onto instead how bad this feels, “he’s waiting outside to pick you up. Now you can go home….” 

“No safety or surprise….”*

I fell asleep

No! the shaking begins. the cold inside. no one is taking us home. it does not exist for us. 

“It’s time to go home,” he says with the too firm grip that says exactly what will happen next. there. but it is not. for us. never for us. we will never know it. the chill is too warm on my skin, the vomit tears holes in my stomach …it does not exist. for us. we do not. no one knows we are here. it never leaves. 

“Go to bed!” 

don’t fall asleep….oh my god —he’s killing me. I try to scream but I’m choking ….he’s killing me

“Duva, wake up!”

*”no safety or surprise”/The End; the Doors

 

as the blue notes echo on….

he stops me after awhile and pulls up my chin to look at him and looks down into my face, drawing back my hair,

“du är vacker….  Jag har saknat ditt ansikte….” and drags me off the floor from where I worship, his fingers touching my lips, “such a mouth you have….”

“What did I reveal to you back in the office? I don’t remember any of it….” I say looking up at him

But instead he lifts me and takes me across to the other side where there is the other twin dome which beneath it lays a wide round bed with white satin sheets 

“It looks like a huge clam,” I say as he sets me down upon it, “it’s like an Art Deco, Fred Astaire film set,” I say as I look around at the curved custom made furniture that seems made out of Bakelite or lucite, “so what did I say? Did I reveal more fascinating lockletter codes?”

But instead he says, 

“you said enough ….but let’s not talk about it tonight…. tyst nu, min prinsessa...min drottning….“ and moves over me, “you are wearing too many clothes…. and….it has been such a long day—and ….has been far too long….don’t you agree, duva? I will tell you tomorrow,” he looks down at me, and decisively, not bothering with buttons, peels off everything at once in two abrupt and swift separate tugs, and tosses both tops and bottoms to the floor, “but now, be quiet and open your legs.”

….and so it is later watching the stars through the ceiling with him, tracing the muscles of his body with my finger tips ….and I  know ….I could never want anyone but him