Mark Whelan

And For a Second There They Lost Themselves

And for a second there they lost that second: and she said as they looked down in the canyon at the candle flickering flames in boxes on the hillside, yes, she said, inside me, she said, yes and yes and in my eyes I long for an eternity of this dance of yes, and before they knew it they looked up through the leafy tree tops across the roof top and towards the confines of the universe and the darkness looking down on them and the stars that are awake tonight, and the fishing boat bobbing sea miles away laps on the sand and say yes, and with her breath, deep and heavy they painted with their finger tips in colors only known to the senses and wanted to blurred with one another like paint being swirled together in kisses across the starry, starry night, and he thought back, and saw her kissing an annoynmous guilt free girl in the heavily scented nightclub, and for a moment, he said to himself, forget the past, live in this heartbeat and the moment and the stars shall align and you shall be mine, yes, she said and turned her eyes away and he carried her on his back across the Japanese tea house and into the evening whilst the blood moon danced away by the passing of time and she was full of magic and yes the ballerina pirouetted through the thoughts of the many sighs that bridge between the day and night forged like a platinum cast in the smithy of his soul…his Irish eyes watch and listen and the moment passed and the seconds tick, tock, tick, tock, tick tock, skipping beats with every phone bleep and cascading like rain into the place where doubt goes to light up the darkest night and night night
time passes…she returns to her love of children and animals and he languishes in work and lets the bird fly away…. and he woke up the following morning, and yes, the blue moon and before he had got out of bed yes she’s on the run around run around tick, tick tock and blue curtains of crystal, more as if he was gently easing the girl down on to his bed., a low, plain low, a petite girl, tender, slender, lovely and modeled as if some divine force, and the long easy smile and yes had taken pleasure in embellishing her, and watching her in the old bookstore where the labyrinth begins and hungry like a wolf, wearing the tie at the Roosevelt and he was a wolf yes, the darkest prince and yes the elegance of her figure no way detracted from her blood dripping minimalistic allure, and the hunt and she was not in anyway buxom ballerina becoming and dancing, and the most delicious forms graced by a lily skin fairer and not suspect nor hide, and faint hint of a pepper pot tan and often induced she was desire in the shape and form, shade and color of a grace, yes, and face was a small and delicate, her features perfectly symmetrical, more majesty and defiance than gentleness was in her look, more grandeur than subtlety and on the street she was hot and hungry and yes wet her eyes unusually large, blue, and full of mischief; and untamed her mouth was small yet in perfect proportion yes, more, as her buds like lips offered themselves to all that saw for two rose buds for kisses shantih and and shantih framed by the finest teeth, shantih never suspecting his sharp and dark on her neck, tick, tock, tick tock and she had a narrow, red riding hood supple tongue, of the loveliest pink which rested on her teeth and the car sped away up to Mulholland drive first, second, third and fourth into the corner and yes, the union of the snakes, and his breath began the chase from behind and through the leaves and lace and towards the tennis court leading int I’m on the hunt I’m after you thrive she was pert breasted, skin it’s so tight you feel my heat fair yes as alabaster and just as firm into the night the car moves and her soft pink nipples were erect and attentive, refuse the use, lose and confuse like raspberry fruit, yes and into the club without the list and the door opened and yes her flat stomach led down and yes and mouth is alive to her sin and sign and more, you shall be mine and yes her ivory legs were open revealing a small rose lipped cherry and inside he surveyed her body up and down on the other side of the page her back was turned arabesque and in an extraordinary way, its lines sweeping deliciously down to the most artistically and the most precise cleft ass nothing could have been more that man ray picture, small, but firm, white; and peeping out the cleanest and sweetest and yes the scent and the feathers and yes she said to herself I miss his voice, yes, his voice, then little red riding hood went into her house in the middle of the forest and sat down and acquiesce.

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