the wait

the wait

She lay there on our bed panting, her tattooed white skin, sweat- sheened and mottled by weak sunlight coming through the windows of the bedroom. My cum is spread across her taut stomach like a silvery archipelago. Im still hard as I get up to go look at the purple and white Chugach Mountains to the east. Fireweed is spread all over below the snowline. The purpling of the abundant flower forecasts the first snowfall of winter. All the mountains turned over a week ago and still nothing. Still the wait for the end of green, of color, of light, youth and frenzy Still the wait.Each day preens itself slowly,achingly.

The effects of the heroin are subsiding and I can feel my erection more keenly. I stroke my cock and tell her Ill be back with fresh drinks. As I pour the gin into our glasses I realize were out of tonic water so I look in the bottom cupboard for more. We seem to be out of everything lately.Shell just have to drink it straight.Like I do now ,from the bottle.There we go, come into me, I say to the turquoise bottle. "Come , come, come."She is yelling for me to hurry. "Theres something in the yard,hunny, a bear I think,hurry,its gonna get me!" Iwalk back to the room and peer outside to see a bull moose.

Do you have a gun, I ask

Dude, you cant shoot the bear

Its a moose, I tell her

Stillin that case, come back to bed

Nah, I want to look at him for a little more

But, Im horny,she tells me

My cock hangs flaccid as I turn to see her rubbing herself,inserting two fingers deep inside her pussy.

Looking back at the moose I see him eat the Red tulips I planted months ago.

Hey, hes eating the tulipscan I shoot the bastard now?

I feel her hands around me, shes kissing my neck, two fingers enter my mouth and I taste her sex. "Come fuck me again, she whispers."

The moose is now eating the begonias,the strawberries and red cabbage. He moves to the ferns,leaving one lonely head of cabbage, its petals or leaves ,whatever theyre called are pulled back from the head, so that it resembles an orchid painted by Georgia Okeefe or even dozens of swollen labias. She gives up and returns to bed.

Fuck it,she tells me. Fuck you, then.

I sip the gin slowly and stare at the purple cabbage. I instantly want to save it from the moose. And, as if reading my mind, he lugubriously walks over to the cabbage and swallows it whole, leaving a hole in the cold cold ground the size of a toddlers fist.

I point my finger at him, as if its the barrel of a gun . "Bang." I want the moose to fall, to die for his sin. Instead he lifts his heavy head and walks away from the window and back into the Chugach.

The last of the gin goes down my throat; my cigarette is down to the end and I crush it out in a broken ashtray that says ,"Welcome to Alaska."

Shadows have come into the room and I turn to see her in the fetal position in the last patch of light

You awake?Nothing. I look outside for the last time and see snowflakes drift down,covering the earth in a mantle of white.

This is it, I say,Kaput. Finis. I feel sick from all the white; it is so clinical,so funerary. I have to look away.There she lay,in half darkness now,in the fetal position,her perfect ass beckoning me.I crawl onto the bed and move my face to her pussy which looks like a closed bud of a delicate flower. I bend to it and inhale through my nostrils.

Posted by Chukchi at 1:47 AM 0 comments Links to this post

Incessant(why is rain always incessant or driving?) rain and wind.Strong,lusty ,gusty gales;electricity dead, thee walls tremble. Looks like Spielberg is directing.Wind so strong it pushes water on the street likea huge invisible broom. Telephone cables dance and sway; in the distance police lights,overhead a dark grey and black mass of cloud resembling funerery shrouds; it's chaos,albeit a light version,wheres the fuckin candles?The alder trees across the street bend at 70 degrees. On the drama scale: 2

1979,Northern Ilinois, in the warpath of a tornado: in the basement watching trees fly by;drama scale : 10

I grew up with warnings of the apocalypse and warnings from pulpit and podium of Communist invasion, the end of the world,Ragingorak as the Icelandic sagas call it, but what I saw that day was hellish,the aftermath was sure sign that the Furies traipsed by with vitriol and vim,Paul Bunyan had a bad pcp trip, a v.w. bug lay upside down on a roof,a brick schoolhouse looked like a Dresden factory,the ravens sounding like Germans.

A flood in Redding,1987: another bug,floating down the river called Interstate 5. A week of sirens,helicopters,evacuations,canned food and quik candlelit romps and bacchanals lasting 24/7. Drama scale ? 4. A measly 4. Siskel and Ebert(now Roper--who the hell is this guy,eh?) would be mixed on my drama of the Northern California flood amongst white trash drug addicts...prolly cause Keanu would play me, in that monoemotion of his, like he just ate Opium cake for breakfast and downed it with Valium punch:What, ok,like I will rescue you..like can we fuck then?)

This week: poison oak.Drama scale ? A million. It is off the goddamned charts. Do not laugh or call me histrionic,melodramatic. Yes,do. Call me that. This is natures way of saying to me"Youre petty life is now dictated by diet leprosy,leprosy-lite...good day!

Shazam!Your skin is covered in welps,lesions,macabre red raises,blisters and a model of the surface of Mars. You are a red crocodile. And now the burning itch:On your lovely gnarled cock,your eyes,arms,legs,belly,chest,neck. Diet leprosy. Ive always had an on again off again relationship with Mother Earth,but now I want to commit matricide. My umpteenth time with this dermatological savaging. Done. We are kaput,momma. Fuck you and the horse you rode in on. Fuck the redwoods,the dirt,the ocean,pretty flowers,rivers,sunrise,sunset,Ayers Rock,The Nile,the Gobi,the taiga,all of it. Concrete, cement. This is love. This is holy now .Cover up the old hag. My way of casually saying "Pthwt!"

I want to bap hippys on the head with a tractor tire,drive a semi thru Manhatten bitchslapping babyseals,drinking pure Chernobyl nuclear waste,injecting rare civet pancreas blood into my neck,wear Saudi crude for cologne----my way of saying Hiroshima, mon amour.

Yes, terra madre, you give me this and more you have given me: sleepless nights on the Pacific chasing tuna,puking and delirious,watching whales rise up with famished eyes as if I were a knish with legs;sharks and gills and scales and a desert of wawa rising and falling ....for what?The grizzly in Alaska who kept me locked in my truck for two hours as he growled and stood trying to eat his beloved knish with legs;all the near death experiences with rattlesnakes, black widows,horses falling on me, bulls chasing me, rabid bats,wilddogs chasing me into the boughs of an oak,fleas, ticks,rats,bird shit,heat,cold, rain,sleet,snow,flood,drought.Flora and fauna are no funna.We are done , you and I. And, when I rule the planet I will pay you back a million fold. Oh, yes! Paybacks are a motherfuckin bitch. Highrises in the Grand canyon, a parking lot in the Amazon, nuke the Galapogos,poison the wells, stripmall the Yukon. In a thousand years when you recover you will shake us off. I know. I do.You always come back .The human race will be paying for my sin.In this sense I 'am the anti-christ.But, I'm okay with this:my body will be dead:Buried in a steel box,in a vault deep inside a nuclear bunker made out of polyurethane and plastic dildos. Poison oak free:a smiling bag of cfc's,msg,gmo's,nicotine,alcohol,exhaust,pollution,formaldehyde. I will look down from a heaven sponsored by multinational corporations and send you my love.