dear tony hawk the-game-not-the-person, thank you for letting mischka create a skategirl who is
just like me, only with control over things like gravity & her own two feet.
why yes, i did spend about half an hour this afternoon watching mischka drive me-on-a-skateboard all over the place, wincing when she (i) fell & her (our?) neck should have snapped. as i walked down the sidewalk back toward high street i stumbled over my own damned shoes & lamented the dissimilarities between myself & a creature that resembles me but does not exist.
:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:suddenly this is turning into the kind of night that could be all about the frank o'hara.
but forty-eight hours from now i will be in my parents' house, dear jane when will we see you, & here's hoping bean is not allergic to their house, as we suspect she may be. when we were there for easter she couldn't breathe & we spent the entire weekend sleeping.
also at long last i will meet my brother's girlfriend. they have been together for ten months (yes?) & it is a damn shame that we have not been introduced. then again, they have been together for ten months & the other day when i asked jonathan what is her favorite color, he said "i guess i ought to find out." so i am not the only one who is a bit slow on the uptake.
:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:what cousin frank says.
POEM [1953]
When your left arm twitches
it's like sunlight on sugar
to me and my tongue seeks
the sea of your skin, its oily
calm of green light on the floor
of the ocean there's a flutter between us
while I haul down a flag and
you look absently out of
my heart so you won't see
what light one fears in the
sea that I don't want you
to know is of you in me
:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:
23.03 postcript
dear future bible heroes, thank you for your song �the world is a disco ball�, which has succeeded in pulling me up out of whatever mire this evening had become.
[i see the word "mire" which is perfectly fine english, & my mind tries to file it away as italian. la mira, le mire, aim/s. the sentence doesn't make sense that way.]
