i sound like a bitchy gay robot

Friday 3 June 2011

Mourning the Memory of a Streetcorner

"[E]verything will be swallowed along with the trauma that led to the loss.  Swallowed and preserved.  Inexpressible mourning erects a secret tomb inside the subject."



The ramp down to the river ... the butter chicken place, for international calling cards; the gay coffee shop, where C. saw R. through the window; the lemongrass chicken vermicelli bowls with D.; the bad date with N. at the hipster restaurant; the Italian place where A. showed off her girlfriend; the art-house theatre, with every ghost ...  "Rest assured, your love is pure" ... a flute refrain, an ascent, a stolen past ... turning everything into salt ... I have to pretend you aren't there or anywhere.

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