That sound, that name, that
whisper and that same sticky saliva between her lips they all seemed mnemonics
from the past, from the deepest end of my past. In a whiff it took away
everything I loved about New York, about art, about poetry about dance , music,
art everything faded into a blazing light that cracked and banged with sounds
like I was on a transatlantic locomotion. The strength of steel on steel, one
laid and the other rolling. I was rolling my mobile phone, over and over, my
eyes were half shut, the light was hurting, my body was shaking, a School
building was revolving and my train moved on, at the speed of light – blue and
black light. And through the shade and the blaze, all I wanted was to touch
that face, hold it tender, gently lift and look deep into those glassy, brown
eyes.
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