augury doggerel

Tuesday, May 07, 2002

Losing It

There is not sex enough on the Internet. There are plenty of illustrated guides to inserting parts into parts, all of it DIY, but not enough knotty bits to go around. Well.

She lived in Love Canal with her frequently polluted father and her frequently polluted mother and her own pure eterni-tan in one of the cheapest homes in town, built directly over a massive chemical dump. She was good from giant hair down to smooth soles. Her smile was festive and her first name was Holly and her last name has never come back to me.

I drove a purple Dodge Dart with no room but for driving. We parked in a lot on the Niagara River in rain with thick drops a thousand fingers drumming on the roof. She had been here before and before, but not with me; I was the experimental rabbit volunteering my eyes and skin. We weren't far from the road and there were other cars parked close to us with similarly occupied occupants, but without light we were invisible.

The rain in an old, rusted car runs through the works, tries the locks, finds out loose wires, establishes alternative direct currents.

When the dome light lit over us, contorted front seat to back, an awful swollen orange light came over us and expanded to yellow. I thought that she had turned it on and she thought that I had turned it on and I tried the switch just a thousand times, but the switch was denying everything.

You can, if you need to � if you find yourself one of two naked occupants on display in a purple 1970s Dodge Dart with a throbbing interior light advertising the matter to various people looking on � you can with one hand remove the dome light, cover and housing, wires and bulb, bolts and welded supports, and all associated molecules in one smooth motion if you just forget your name and hers and pull.

I have since remembered my name.


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