Bouquet (Rainbow Prisons)
The first one I called the Rose. He reminded me of the magenta-purple rosebush and the aqua-blue stone. He had a way of looking sidelong at humanity. Always a little laugh, always a little bully. I think at times we were frightened of each other, and jumped back from the electrical charge. He worked with his hands. He wasn't the **** I was and it made me sad.
The next one so Saturnine. Outlook so pessimistic, but only from his love of depressants. Quiet palette. I have been working so hard on what you told me, he said. I missed getting elbows-deep in it, he said. He was as if psychedelia had a photonegative. I wanted his drug trips down in all media. I wanted a multimedia presentation. Multi multi. Now I know what those rainbow prisms were for. If I listened quietly, I knew what he was doing and he would confess to me... "I am making ****." Yes, I would like one for my birthday.
The third was really really married this time. Not even "getting a divorce." They always are. I was happy he was honest. I called him "two-feathers" because even with these he seemed like he could will it up to take flight from this world. Not like an angel, but like the dodo-est dummy penguin, besting his own grimy environs. Poor dear. But his engines were so skilled and practiced. I knew he would never touch me. All the engines turned too hard, but they had enlightening philosophies to say. He made ****, too. I tried to help, and almost broke my ankle skating across a Jackson Pollock canvas he'd created of all his discarded work until then. We are the fancy fanciful. When you are an elder, I will pull out your rotted teeth from affection. No, his wife did not like it but she mostly ignored it.
They were my bouquet. All the men I loved.
The next one so Saturnine. Outlook so pessimistic, but only from his love of depressants. Quiet palette. I have been working so hard on what you told me, he said. I missed getting elbows-deep in it, he said. He was as if psychedelia had a photonegative. I wanted his drug trips down in all media. I wanted a multimedia presentation. Multi multi. Now I know what those rainbow prisms were for. If I listened quietly, I knew what he was doing and he would confess to me... "I am making ****." Yes, I would like one for my birthday.
The third was really really married this time. Not even "getting a divorce." They always are. I was happy he was honest. I called him "two-feathers" because even with these he seemed like he could will it up to take flight from this world. Not like an angel, but like the dodo-est dummy penguin, besting his own grimy environs. Poor dear. But his engines were so skilled and practiced. I knew he would never touch me. All the engines turned too hard, but they had enlightening philosophies to say. He made ****, too. I tried to help, and almost broke my ankle skating across a Jackson Pollock canvas he'd created of all his discarded work until then. We are the fancy fanciful. When you are an elder, I will pull out your rotted teeth from affection. No, his wife did not like it but she mostly ignored it.
They were my bouquet. All the men I loved.
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