October 15, 2011

• Falcon Four Thirty

  just re-read this. i still like it. it’s from a dream. don’t be misled by the leisurely wind-up.

  ***
  my mother, she always had a knack with gifts and when i came home for good this time there was a ’68 ford falcon convertible waiting. it was a peach and it was creamy with red interior and three-on-the-tree. it was like new, only old. the syncro-mesh was shot so i couldn’t downshift into first until fully stopped. no big deal.

  i rolled the top down after the first rain and took a drive with some friends i’d known forever and we were bouncing and rocking on that springy old suspension like we were all punch drunk in a bathtub together, laughing down the narrow overgrown road, green and wet and steaming after the sun came out and pretty soon we were at the party and there were a bunch of happy nice people there too, like everybody.

  the happy people were assembled at a big old wooden house only it wasn’t old it was new and downstairs the back doors opened onto a porch and the porch was perched atop a grassy slope and the host was there, grilling, and i wandered around and then decided to explore the pretty house so i climbed the stairs and pretty soon i found a small room that would have been the turret if this house had been a castle, except it was square and wooden not stone and cold. there was a big split window in the wall with the best view, and a narrow wrap-around deck that you had to climb out the windows to get to and i was alone in the room except for a boy and his girlfriend, both raven-haired and wild perched like love birds on opposite sides of one of the windowsills, backs toward me. sometimes one would speak but mostly they just sat silently, gazing out across the verdant afternoon landscape. they didn’t seem to know i was there.

  my first lover was there too, the one that drove me crazy and still does in too many wrong ways but definitely a few of the right ones and she was there in the corner shadow, still surprising me like a cat, she was as beautiful as when we began and pretty soon after we began talking about nothing i started to wonder how she got there but when she jumped me and wrapped her legs around my waist the way she always used to i stopped wondering

  wrapped around me natural and this turn she took felt as natural as a diving bird, and the way the day creates the way we turn as i hold her swaying, purring, slowly burning

  it’s a dream so of course my pants are (what pants?) and she’s completely bare below the waist and smooth as silk RAWR she smiles coy at my discovery and nestles over me nestles onto me and then i am in her holding her, facing silhouettes in the window and she’s all up in my face looking like she ate a canary (i still can’t decide if she’s a bird or a cat) and here we are now together. i swirl inside her, past the feral boy and his hippie girl and out the window above the sea green for a moment and the scents after the rain, floating like me. i am drawn back when suddenly she rocks on my hips and whispers I love your cock inside me

  it would have been trite or even coarse from other lips but her lips slightly parted and her eyes sweet slits watching infinity on TV and the trace of her neck bent the way it bends when she absolutely loves my cock inside her, it isn’t coarse or trite at all.
   
  i say nothing about not having children and how i do regret that, but when i think  it she suddenly opens her wide eyes wide – zooming back to Be Here Now while i watch in endorphin overdrive, watch as her cosmos re-condenses to a point and explodes again, reborn as impetuous phosphorous flash

  she tosses her head back and speaks: Well that’s what *this* is for, silly. she tells me with words first then again with nuzzles and grins and she bows back and straightens my imaginary bow tie and shimmies down on me like she can’t get enough of what this is for

  but her eyes are full of something very deep now.

  and by this time the boy and the girl in the window have discovered us and traded a view of the nature happening outside for that of the nature happening between us, this being natural and i watch them watching us and it wasn’t planned and i was happy and so were they and we were all one that day together.

  i wet my index finger, slide it down her spine and down more until it is enveloped by the deepening furrow of her line of symmetry, pressing and prying gently savoring the reverberations of the song we both once wrote. down more, till i dip inside her soft power and steal it wet to retrace a path upward toward Now

  I’m your patron saint of adversity, baby.

  in slow motion she unfurls from my waist, arms and legs wide and she’s weightless, levitating off the rest of the universe, impaled on me while I continue to ply her, slow and strong and steady. the wild young boy and his girl observe, rapt and slack-jawed and i watch them track this beautiful creature’s ascent until finally the wild girl says breathless Oh my God! and the boy (who turns out to be English) exclaims That. Was. BRILLIANT!

  i purr deep, like a cat diesel.

  afterward we all lie together outside and talk and are silent until late into the night, in love on the emerald grass.

  high above, a falcon soars.

  ***

  (Originally posted July 2009)

  • 11:13 pm
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