london's hillside marches

it seemed to me she used a different deck every day. today is agarden of eden deck where all the pictures are of men and women stepping nude from beneath branches or sharing a tender kiss or eatting of fruit that is so sweet, so bitter.

she walks the campus between classes carrying the tattered garden taro in her fingers lightly, if at all. there is a red suede case for the cards that seems to me was put together by a yaqui shaman: she slips between crowdds. between lines at counters, under rows of trees approaching couples with a card btween her thumb and index finger and hands a single card to the femnale of the species. this card is eve, her breasts exposed, a sly smile and she whispers to them:

"if he slapped you would you know his love?"

i find myself on a freeway exit u-turn thinking about handed out copies of scum manifesto and valerie solanis and i watch her approach another couple, she speaks :

"when you kiss, continents pass bewteen your lips."

allt his happens while a documentary on the state of modern television takes place on greayhound bus and men in beards discuss the validity and importance (lack thereof, maybe) of network nudity, and the girl passes a third card, they're arguing:

"everything worth saying can be said with fingertips slid down her back."

i glimse the card she passed and notice the embrace, the bottom of the card says "death"

and i am falling...

i am eager to mee this woman, of the tattered tarot deck, of the proverbs spoken, of rich poetry for couples- but it seems to me i have known her all along.

there are only clouds now and i realize her words have made passable the long stretches without.

2003-11-25 | 6:53 p.m.
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