23/365 - Tongue

Hers was the devil’s mouth. Full of kinetic energy wrapped around a lightning-rod silver tongue with the full knowledge that tears conduct electricity. Pushing electrons out of speakers to make entire rooms question love and the validity of locks. A bear trap that doesn’t work anymore is just an art installation, a harsh carpet. Trigger me this, batman. If I poured your parent’s blood through a harmonica, would you hear their voices?

Some laughs just cut across the throat of crowded bars. Her laugh destroyed bridges. In no time at all, her love notes became half notes and she sang the song of storks. Crush hard on whatever slice of Europe is available to you, said the song. Love the feel of the word ‘escape’ clogging your elegant throat and making it hard to speak. Build a house out of lottery tickets and dog tags.

From far away, I beheld her in my arms. Dot dot dot. I sent her e-lips.

Men only proposed to her when they were on their backs. She always said no. She kept dragon wings in her hope chest. She drank panda tears. Sure, she got addicted to heroin but she got addicted in Italy. Sure, she fell down some stairs but it happened in Paris.

Sure, she died.

But she died in Prague.

Her failure was like fireworks to the rest of us.




tags