She couldn’t remember how many times she nap-fucked him. She remembered the dreams of Mary Shelley though. And how he misplaced his arm along her thunder thighs on two occasions. The first occasion, she remembered him saying: Don’t just leave your vagina, and the second he said: I can’t remember your flesh in the darkness.
They both had problems with remembering. It was probably why they had their rendezvous’. She came from the shadowy side—the one where if you dropped something you could never find it again—and he came from the lighter side—the one where you mash fucking with something more.
Tonight, she didn’t know what to say to him. She came up with,
“My body’s been used up on pretense.”
He said, “Baby, poetry’s for forgetting. Let’s just pretend the present has no future or past.”
Shelley’s Modern Prometheus came into her mind. Ya know, punishment for all the fire’s light.
They both had problems with remembering. It was probably why they had their rendezvous’. She came from the shadowy side—the one where if you dropped something you could never find it again—and he came from the lighter side—the one where you mash fucking with something more.
Tonight, she didn’t know what to say to him. She came up with,
“My body’s been used up on pretense.”
He said, “Baby, poetry’s for forgetting. Let’s just pretend the present has no future or past.”
Shelley’s Modern Prometheus came into her mind. Ya know, punishment for all the fire’s light.
Jon-Michael Frank