TWO In pink you are not a natural animal, so today let's eat breakfast with slow, practiced bites cause I love you. Despite this the pancakes we're splitting are horrendous, iridescent, with syrup they're heavy as platters of sod. Remember the breakfast we hosted on Nicollet Island? The room was deep in concerns and juice and waffles. That was the day we got away, my favorite wedding of us. We ate eggs off plates. This spring is a season for decision, indiscretion: the animal in me will crack in this dank planet and I would like to make myself a daughter, a girl with the marshmallow bones of a bird. The skulls of birds are mere bubbles of bone, gum-thin, will break at a tap: but birds are crazy with animal power, survive in their natural wit. They are simple, as I am. Those summers on St. Anthony were thick with our lunches. We ate the Lord's supper and drank our own wine. I am eager for the damp of my wife, and she is afraid that we might have a daughter. Every skirt she washes is divorce, and every divorce she decides on could be massive. Our love is helpless and noble, like, I suppose, some diorama of love. __ THE NIGHT WE DIDN'T SEE V FOR VENDETTA The movie is really a whole lot of mints, a mustering of sexy and diagonal violence, and this is the killing: with all these knives, he probably kills weeks of people, paragraphs of them. The original comic had V slaying fascists on staircases or something. The film is set in the death of a New London future, one gross with the smell of hair gel, the pastel moods of phone books, the black yards of sick lovers, of no texture. The conservatives in the film reject homo- sexuals, and Natalie Portman rails at drizzle from the political heavens, a drizzle that went all mean and physical, clean-toasting her brown locks to a cussed nibble. Things have to do with Christ and with the Devil. Return of the Jedi ends with ghosts in bluey-white, Jedis who died neutral and pleased in a universe of laser swords. They are apparently a part of death. We saw a marquee in Florida that read: V for Vendetta, and the love for her became better than an emergency, like you're pregnant plus a hero, heaving baskets full of victory, your body light as health. __ on THE NIGHT WE DIDN'T SEE V FOR VENDETTA: Driving along the coast of Florida one night last spring, a friend and I suddenly became oddly overwhelmed by a desire to see V for Vendetta. In the heat of the moment nothing at all sounded more desirable. The movie, however, did not open until the next day, and so our desire was definitively insatiable. I still have not seen the movie (the desire has returned, but never so strongly). on TWO: Stories, and words themselves, might be physical in lots of ways: they are hard and you can hold them. |