Friday, September 2, 2011

Being Because It’s Still Summer

The party was the kind that was tame on everything but the tongue, and ended with piles full of people beyond various closed doors, licking haphazardly for hidden zones of gratuitous attention. There were shufflings of orientations that made the rooms much more fraught with intrigue in some minds, less so in others. There was the kind of stank in the air that comes from bodies new to each other, the combining perfumes of the flesh that seem fresh having never been felt before, and yet full of something that was somehow familiar, of being used to being new.

Two girls, each behind different doors, noticed in their own way how a body can be a cradle or a crutch, depending. They saw each other on the street later in the morning, wearing the same tawdry example as the night before, this time only on the face. And each stopped, nodding, having never seen each other before, yet knowing where the other had been, where she was going next.