'We are in a painted room, rising from a new world. Here, there are no mirrors, only eyes. Only a trunkful of vinyl & the clicking of hearts in the insides of ears. In the course of the night the world has already changed remarkably & yet you & I have remained almost exactly the same which is sad but also very beautiful. You open your mouth & taste the edges of the day that is yet to come, so warm & so bare. This is the space we have come to inhabit or the space love inhabits or the space the idea of love inhabits. All around us, words settle like flecks of dark chocolate. I say, it's this part I enjoy most, the morning arguments about nothing at all. Is it only the conversation you like? Well no, but I like it best. Like the fizz that spills over a tall glass of root beer. You laugh. So stick out your tongue. Morning peeks through, & then floods. One cannot help but feel walled in, familiar as the shadows that lie on the floor may be, or however lovely the comfort offered by hollowed bed cocoons may be, because after all a room is a room is a room & a room must have walls. You are usually a person filled with light, very much of zeal but today you have gone to seed. Lie down and talk to me, you plead but already your eyes are like dark caves & once again you are alone in sleep. So I leave. Outside, the city throbs and I try very hard to be in the same vein, weaving through oceans of people & its smells; buildings sweating with toil & the crisp metallic tang of pavement stones. I ache for something else altogether. Nature, maybe. Anywhere away from here. In this crowd, I can't help thinking: If I cried out now, would anyone stop? Would anyone hear me? Perhaps I should have stayed with you. You, who are so young, not quite ripe, not a boy but certainly not a man yet. Now we will be children together, that is what you said when we met, when I was still not yet sewn into the fabric of this landscape. The tender flesh of the inside of a tomato, a song made out of milk & honey, racing profiles & patterns across a darkened room, intoxicated by liquor & the promises of a night forgotten before it can be created. Skin & a lock of hair... could you carry me off to an unfamiliar room? I wonder if I would ever again have the opportunity to fall in love with a stranger. Universes & fragments... Suddenly I want you here with me very, very badly. Mi amado, de alguna manera nuestras formas encajan...
The darkening sky will soon sweep the light away. Tonight we will go out & take in, inhale this territory still so foreign to me. Perhaps you will take me dancing after, or for a music show in a clandestine loft only we & a few know of, where the air is stale but the sound is fresh. When the bass kicks in, perhaps the crowd might surge with the exhilaration that lasts only for a span of a song. Perhaps, when we fall back onto the sheets together & ride the soft velvet waves back into dream, the city will feel more like home.'
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