Bondi Beach, Sydney, NSW c. 2002

Sat, 29 Jan 2005 7:15 AM (GMT+0000)

God damn it's good to have a photographic memory; I couldn't have a better image branded onto my mind's retina right now. Something about prolonged lack of sleep dilates that pupil to the point where it's like a little Irish Catholic high school girl in Jamaica at noon: drunk, impressionable, and very likely to get burnt.

There it is, that tiny dancing gold cross on its choking thin chain. It's winking in the snow glow diffused through window. Heavens, it's cold outside. Hell yeah, it's the fuckin' inferno in here; so hot that cross should be stuck there in that tremendous valley, sticky with sweat, but in my mind it's dancing, forever dancing.

The rest of the picture is trapped, though, in silent frozen heat. The highlights are shadow. They're the lines on the forehead with no business being burrowed into such young skin, except in that final moment of intense creased concentration. They're the disappearing lip bitten lightly under incisors, thank Christ. Oh yes, the canyon of breasts, the pit of bellybutton, the downtown, Julie Brown, you nasty twin (I don't care).

That cross is still dancing. That's the centerpiece. It's crowing how it's oh so wrong but there she is anyway, wanting every kind of wrong there is if only I had the stones to ask for more. There it is winking away because even though it couldn't do much, it still kept me from asking. I toed the safe side of the line because maybe she wasn't that kind of girl (you know the good, bad kind), and just asking might have shot the frost into her veins and then where would we be, huh?

Sorry cross, man, you can never win. It doesn't matter whom you get on your side, you're never going to win that war against a billion years of evolution, during which one thing has never changed: it all comes down to this moment right here, happening to a billion species in a billion different ways, but every one an organism and orgasm. You can never win but still, there you are. Be happy for this, though: for some of us you make everything oh so much better.


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