It’s everything I wanted and all I never knew, distorted within the frames of a fun-house mirror. The careful lines of brunch-filled mornings bracketed with lazy readings of Oscar Wilde and coffee are no longer colored in with faded, invisible faces, but real people! There are real people in my life and they listen to Nirvana and cuddle me up on the couch. Cam’s past lives are simultaneously grinning as this is more vibrant and social than she ever fathomed it could or would be. The little room is no longer envisioned empty and sometimes, even, her people stay and linger a little while and do not leave when the music dies down.
But there is a goal and a call to action to all of this languorous limb-bedecked repose. The sun streams in and the match wavers close to my face. I can feel the heat linger on my lips. There’s half a joint stuck in between my dry lips, and I’m sucking to save my life. It’s one PM, Mama Cass strolls through my ears and around the folds of my brain, and there’s a needle piercing its way through my ear. Yesterday, I bought an earring and today the earring is going to be placed in my ear. We ate our biscuits, the wine is poured, and I’m pretty stoned. I’m balancing a glass of Riesling on my keyboard because I feel like taking silly little chances.
They looked down on me and for once, I didn’t close my eyes and the needle sank in, true affection and true alteration and I breathed out once, slight, but hard, emptying my lungs of fear. The bitter tang of coffee seeps to the forefront of my tongue, I’m not dizzy, but I’m somewhere else. The Photographer works the earring through the back and all of a sudden, there it is, the titanium realization and endless ring in my ears. I’m happiest, I realize, in a sweatshirt advertising family property that no longer exists, boxers and boots straight out of a catalogue, disheveled but never distorted and showing my cards from the sides of my lips.
I dimple, I bend, they breathe air back into my lips and inflate me once more, and I glow, glint from ear to ear to asymmetrical thought and back. The piercing was calm and without fanfare, private, so shockingly intimate it renders me silent but for my body language and the words moving through my bones, onto the screen in binary harmony and back again.