"My Little Numbskull"

There were no separate beds we fell from but there were different doors we left through, giving a kiss over steam and burnt toast only to vanish into dimensions that both played the worst music on stations cursed with the grittiest static a white man could invent. Later , over french fries and cold cuts left over from some party or other, we discuss the news we heard twenty four hours ago. This was before the internet and phones that poked you in the ribs or purred against your privates when something / anything / nothing at all was happening somewhere / anywhere / nowhere you could name happened, is happening, or is about to happen soon, can’t say when. Cigarettes to smoke, a column to write, a costume to draw perchance to stitch , drinks and then fairy tales, stories from books, lazy diction and funny accents of farm animals in short pants carrying tools to the barn where they are building a big boat as dark clouds form over the horizon of a grey, roiling ocean.

There were no separate beds, as I said but after an hour of saying good night and sweet dreams, we drifted into our different acres of nodding mist, I in a car and then flying, no plane, over all the rooftops of houses I’ve lived in here and there and anywhere I recollect, you, as you said later, in a boat that comes up to a grand hall and you’re somehow now in front of the stairs in the best gown ever made waiting for a man of fortunes known and mysterious to arrive and take you to places where there is only harmony, nothing but sweet notes as you pour the milk into your cereal and sip coffee that tastes of spirits that would circle you toe to the part of your hair and keep you loved,warm , safe from my worst habits and best intentions.

You told me that when you were mad at me. I lit a cigarette and gave it to you and then lit another and took a drag. “My little numbskull” you said to me and I don’t think I’ve been as happy since then.