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Tafadhal

Y O U R E
R I D
A
S E A

until Tafadhal mastered the complaint, special interest
waned. what a bloke, managed by syllable & sound. this
inversion, spatially, to make sense to you. a shirt,
chest open, delta of hair: stress divined around the
intimacy the possession of the image.

the sensation delivered in a pool of water shallow-mirror-
like-years-ago a projector. while still earthling Tafadhal
excited the various conversant images. there. by the
resevoir dammed by beavers or the clumsy son up hill.

apart from projection, having to do variously each action.

minor opera, in the air, finished. the jury quite
determined to pass verdict. literature has no business
interfacing reality. weve verified the anticedent. the
opera curtained only minutes afore. the cast encored twice
only to find they had jammed before an empty house. the
janitor swabs the aisle. the virtuoso of the swollen
evening is fogging his throat, with a joint, in the air.

Tafadhall in a room containing all the ikons of his sex. I
cite this. wordbyword. "running breakneck beaching always
those tough thoughts outside my hearing. I lok afaster
after all. Tafadhal is that which continues. the faster.
the easiest play is sexual, a fine wave, closing out
that which we arent. 'wave shapes wave.' I spot the
opening. deftness, on edge."

he repeated the instinct, to cage his distraction.
you are to imagine a crudely wrapped package left
on your step while you are bathing. with a loofah
sponge. there is no end to your anticipation.
it never occurs to you that the package left for
you might have been yours from the beginning.


(if sentences are to have beginnings Tafadhal cues the sound.
consults, confers. weakens under the import. Tafadhal
swells his lungs the air.....)

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