Posted 3 days ago
by thevaginazine
1991 Felix Gonzalez-Torres Untitled (Perfect Lovers)
Wall clocks, slowly fall out of sync.
Nothing lasts longer than the lithium ones he said.
Do you know. I see you entered into a new space, such a cool room. The thermostat at constant with that quality of light on the wall. It is one warmly lit and we sit, at a table on a couch on a floor. Position depends on mood. Darling occasionally I am leaning on elbows across a counter my mind leaning weight moving through shoulders from the top. This is listening. Also shaving cream between fingers all over my little desk. Like I wish my love were that clean. Perhaps it is I have not yet learned to read, maps, or that, you I yet do not understand. Language is dependent on space. Love is temporal. The room is nice where we feel both old and young.
I have been reading. The text it pretends to help me understand. Her lover he would tell her often, No te preocupes. Práctica, y está. She took the book from me and spit sound like ten squeegees. All in a row, I near cried from the closeness. This is afterward. And It’s sharp. A whole big onion in your beautiful eye babe. Did you know she says she would rather read, poetry for a living. She would be a professional, reader of poems. If she wrote she would speak, but because she cannot sighs so will not and returns a loose grain tumbling. Anyway there is no money in speaking or foaming at the mouth. Pouring Crown Royal into a wine glass, her silence hits the air conditioning. Práctica. I sit a few feet back and read her.
