This Light

I am standing in a large pool of water holding a glass of lemonade with square ice cubes that every so often hit the side of the glass, clink clink, when I am shaken by the waves. You are banal there I said it. Your face is banal but I thought better of you for your face. If I said when the waves hit me they rushed up inside of me sprouting little wave hands and made me come would you think better of me. I will take place settings and set up a nice meal for myself and then I will walk around in the water and I will let the rain dampen and ruin my hair because who cares about grace. This beam of light we are all in, oh this small light, this light that we think we fit inside. There is no hiding anymore inside of the light.

There are slits all over this body this body that limits me. Limits my perfection that would otherwise exist so plainly. Shocked I always am. Shocked I always will be. Hemingway says do not fear death well look at me, you big man, look at me in this water with my glass. Crisp I like what is crisp. Anything with an edge and knife peaked. Anything salty. Tongues I like tongues. Your body is so sharp like a corner like an angle. I jammed my pinkie on your collarbone and you laughed and pinched the fat around my belly.  The fat that holds it all for me. Where do you put things? I just said all this to make you come. Whoever comes first is the loser ready set go. I have turned into a wild animal, though not a fish in this water. My teeth are small smudged windows. Would you like to touch them I like fingers in my mouth, up and around my teeth. All of my appliances are breaking, all of my machines. They are all sick, have these viruses. It is because I knowingly sacrifice everything for art. What is the shape of me you are holding between your fingertips, which part did you break off, which salty part?