3 – Pre-Amble ::

Online….

 

Primary Coupler: Engaged…

Hull Ionisation: Completed

Drive Core Status: Nominal to Profile

Field Oblation: at max on launch One

Option to recall commences: Now Ten…

Secondary Coupler: Engaged

Drive Status: max in Five…four …

 

500 series Multi-Dyne Synapse Augmentation commences…

This process cannot be reversed…

… … …… ………… .        … ..

 

Option to Over-Ride: Rescinded.

 

“…systems revert to nominal profile………….

all string-codes to null…

all protocols are rescinded…

system over-ride option reads ‘cancelled’…

quarantine procedures are now in operation

…option to revert is …

    Zero…”

 

you’re in the Pipe…Five by Five…

 

have a good trip

 

….adventurer?!”

 

PRE-AMBLE::

 

Life is not a continuous performance. It is made up of interludes, side roads, layovers, delays. Behind each face: a meal, a walk a kiss or a bed. Behind each; a memory: a taste, or a perfume forming a residue of encounters….[ I wish I could forget you, but I will never. Oye Lupinhas]

 

A residue that ultimately forms the basis for new encounters – a residue that like a heap of sand, hangs poised over its own internal angles of incidence. A heap of memories and impressions.

A slate that only the rag of death can wipe clean. Encounters both real and imaginary, the imaginary being perhaps the most real, for they are distilled from forgotten thoughts and dreams.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In Life, it may be the writing between…

                        Would you cry, cry me a river?…I cried

The lines that counts, the things

                                                A river over you. Now you say you

Unsaid. The sights unseen. The non-kiss

                                                Are sorry – will you cry me a river?

The almost touched, the almost guessed at

                                                I cried a river over you. You

Opportunities. The invisible kite tails

                                                Nearly drove me out of my head

Flown in the wind of intercourse. Few

                                                With all your cruelty and now

Men climb the Mount Olympus. But all climb

                                                You say you love me to prove It.

The Venus Mount. All go to worship

                                                Cry me a river. I cried a river

At the Secret Grove. To die and be re-born.                                                                                 

                                                Over You……..

Give it up and do as I dream

                                                I will love you every day…

                                                                                    Put    your hands    upon me..

                                                                                                            …        .feel this heat?

I beg You, I entreat, I invite, beseech, woman, call out to you the one lone spirito empatico, for that is how you always came looking for me: “the other half of me” – you called me. Said to me in the warm rain in Paradice, told me in our bedroom, even said it while you had a gun pointed at the back of my head at the front door of our apartment…

Remember the first night I went home with you. We were so passionate and frenzied. I tore your pants off and was in you before the first kiss was accomplished. By that time I was holding the gun.

“Yow! What ju gonna do now, Dona?”

 

We had to try and undress while we were bucking and rolling.

I moved in with you the next week. We got a bigger apartment the next month. A big house three months. Later. Sold MY car to by a motor cycle, so we could have a bike as well as a car. And then spent the next twelve years in a crime of passion. And all you were was just a tough little chick who went crazy around her seventeenth birthday and was never the same afterward. You my beautiful Wife… so jealous of all my girl-friends even though, you brought your girl-friends to me. We were so divorced, as a result of your machinations.

Occasionally lovers, even though we are parted, we have never truly left. The past inferno still smoulders, like an almost dormant volcano, with the threat of eruption never too far below the surface. For as we meet, all the ferocity of the banked up fires burst forth and consume us again. Without warning.

 

Well I have been and I loved did love am loved is and was in love… can be alone – But never ever lonely.

For You filled my mind with you. and continue to place your love, and entice my responsibility to accept and recall You as Special…as You Are/Were/Always…even while you are missing in action, long gone from my bed…you still behave as if I am being unfaithful to you when you see me with another woman.

 

And I will tell you this: It is not that I am with another woman, it is that I might be with another woman Like You, that causes your jealousy. I know this because at least three of you Witches put your finger on it when I noticed that you were not worried about my girlfriends, after you and I parted ways. Not until you saw me with “that fukken bitch”. You saw in her what I had always said that I saw in you – and now you could see it too – see yourself From The Outside. You saw with my eyes, how I saw / see you.

 

And even as she brought the Mercedes to a stop in the middle of the road in the night-life downtown chaos, to save my life. I was frozen…she shouting : ”jumpin”   get-in the Car!” and then her message..

 “I love you-  and if you die here, I will leave you…”

 

That blew your mind…to hear some other woman with your ferocity and fire, take me away from you

I had no choice. You gave me none. It was always to Be In Love With You…or be Alone.

 

 

The Shock of Recognition is overwhelming …

 

[But that is another story…]

 

Right now I want to deal with all those incidents from our past, that years later seem to be the stuff that dreams are made of.

The wash of shooting stars. That alcoholic kiss and a squeezed breast. An afternoon on your front lawn. A row of jacaranda trees on the road outside. The early twilight with you hastily pulling the fly of my jeans open…”Just once more”…hot summers horny teen-age school girl just getting the hang of how all this actually works…

 

The stars vanish in an instant like the starfish on the beach used to vanish….

slipping into deeper water and are gone.

 

To float in a misty dreams. Torn down in an un-numbered year to make space for a steel and glass hotel.Right here on the beach. “Our Beach” where we used to make love. Where I first saw you, Starfish.

 

We do not know where it is gone. Yet the mistake is to arrive at the illusion that the details do not matter.

 

In the sacred geometry of chance

The flying saucer bars

Carnelians in blooms

And chicks who smoke cigars

And get it on in

Double parked cars

Rainy autumn streets in summer

Lamplights in the evening window.

                                                    Sex in the car-wash.

The smell of roses outside you bedroom window.

A tapestry is woven: one that inter-twines the thread of our separate lives into a continuum of time and space. That live or die on the back of memory…

 

I wrote about you, to my memory of you thus, my deliciously incestuous lover of my life,s love long:

 

There can no greater paradise

in all the worlds be found

Nor greater beauty held…

Than she, laid upon her back”

 

2004 january 02

 

All the collected pieces of our imaginifgic memory…like trivial knick-knacks when seen against the roaring passing of time.

 

But without these water color paint sketches, awash in remembered color and detail… without the memory none of us amounts to much more, despite our airy dreams, than an impatient ghost – wandering thru” revolving years and into an increasingly strange and alien future.

 

And my best shot now is to become strange and alien now  …!!@!. Lets take a walk…”here”, (kissing your temple) ,…
”Give me your sandals”…
“Come. Take my hand. (Kiss your hand).
“Let’s go, Dona cara…”