Marina
[Time Shift]
Marina has come from a neighboring castle or city or sietch, with impossibly luxurious curly brown hair, and eyes like pools, and apple-y cheeks. She is delicate and small, and never smiles because she doesn't need to.
My friend Scott is here, and Marina's nameless friend, but I never see anyone's face. Other people are bodies, arms, vague presences sensed behind us and around us, but never faces. Only Marina has a whole person, an intact face with eyes that never leave mine.
We stand on a balcony or balustrade to hear the results of the vote. Marina and her friend have come here to our town, or castle, or whatever it is, for the announcement. We've been struck by some nebulous foe, and we've all voted in secret on the eternal question of war and peace.
The answer is war, as it always seems to be. The vengeful crowd celebrates immediately, but Marina and I are downcast, screams and cheers echoing in our heavy hearts. And we stand closer to each other, our hands seeking each other, united by this one shared thing.
And, like you do in dreams, we fall in love instantly, wordlessly, and deeply.
We are in a car, sharing the back seat with one or two faceless friends. She whispers to me, "I will lie with you. I will let you do things."
I glimpse her stomach through the buttonholes of her sweater. Tanks roll through the streets.
At my parents' house for a party or a holiday, the common rooms are full of faceless relatives always just out of sight, the bedrooms impossibly big, with neatly made beds I hope to enjoy her on. In a dining room that never was I try to guide her down to the floor. She is distracted, energetic, bubbling over with unrealized carnal promise.
I awake to the strange, painful missing of something which was perfect and true, but has slipped away into shadow. I dive back into the shallow pools of sleep, calling her name.
Marina has come from a neighboring castle or city or sietch, with impossibly luxurious curly brown hair, and eyes like pools, and apple-y cheeks. She is delicate and small, and never smiles because she doesn't need to.
My friend Scott is here, and Marina's nameless friend, but I never see anyone's face. Other people are bodies, arms, vague presences sensed behind us and around us, but never faces. Only Marina has a whole person, an intact face with eyes that never leave mine.
We stand on a balcony or balustrade to hear the results of the vote. Marina and her friend have come here to our town, or castle, or whatever it is, for the announcement. We've been struck by some nebulous foe, and we've all voted in secret on the eternal question of war and peace.
The answer is war, as it always seems to be. The vengeful crowd celebrates immediately, but Marina and I are downcast, screams and cheers echoing in our heavy hearts. And we stand closer to each other, our hands seeking each other, united by this one shared thing.
And, like you do in dreams, we fall in love instantly, wordlessly, and deeply.
We are in a car, sharing the back seat with one or two faceless friends. She whispers to me, "I will lie with you. I will let you do things."
I glimpse her stomach through the buttonholes of her sweater. Tanks roll through the streets.
At my parents' house for a party or a holiday, the common rooms are full of faceless relatives always just out of sight, the bedrooms impossibly big, with neatly made beds I hope to enjoy her on. In a dining room that never was I try to guide her down to the floor. She is distracted, energetic, bubbling over with unrealized carnal promise.
I awake to the strange, painful missing of something which was perfect and true, but has slipped away into shadow. I dive back into the shallow pools of sleep, calling her name.
posted by Sleepyhead at 11:31 AM
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