beneath the boughs in the forest of arden of the world

dreaming on the bed seriously, saying nothing. i look at her full lips, her dark skin, her thin fingers spread like a starfish. i bury my nose in the woman of her neck, she puts her hand on my beard, moves her fingers, i and think forever she'll be a dark ocean, like every woman, a dark ocean, and no more can a dark ocean explain itself than...

this is the book we read together (the glossy-real illustrations). we were two tumbled bodies on the bed, two dreamy forefingers in the air, her black hair spread out like a stranded mermaid through her bandanna.

in the bedroom she ties on her bandanna, sings softly, i grab her hips, her head falls back, i nudge her off balance, she smiles, twirls around, pushes me, walks away, says she likes me.

she'd put her bandanna on when we arrived home. rose, black, roses on the stage of victorian orgies, black.

in the cab we're quiet, both of us thinking perhaps of the ride, the blur of the city, the premonition of her music set to a caravaggio dimension, hipping silently, dreams woven out of the movie we've seen.

slices of pie after the movie (first time suggesting it she laughed, thinking i was joking). she talks about growing up, her mother, living in london, wants to go back, wants to take a trip, all sass, coffee, acting young, poor, searching for something.

we watch a french film. the only people in the cinema, lounging with our feet up, shrouded in our outside mysteries, sharing popcorn.

play it fast. but not too fast.

when the late evening squeezed a fine, slanting rain, my boots attacked the asphalt. the winter was drawing to a close, it was friday night, and i was determined to catch a show. i left the apartment and began walking. the club was only about a twenty minute walk. passing the cafes, bookstores, 10,000 villages, i came upon central square, where the lights plunged through prisms of droplets forming oil colored anemones and young people cut to bars, others, dressed finely in london fog coats, to restaurants, tibetan, caribbean... hobos talking to themselves, everyone hulabooling as if in a heroic painting. there in the background - every painting has a background - colored brick and graffitti, concerned sky overlooking the gritty, uppity, young, old, bum, rich moving with precision and sending little clouds of breath or smoke from the carmine red of a charred tipped cigarette.

i entered the club and walked over to will call.

"have you heard of the film "lord of the gourds?" asked the person in front of me to his friend.

"yeah, i have, actually."

"that's my father. he's the pumpkin grower on the cover. i guess that makes me prince of the gourds."

he called himself "prince of the gourds." the over 18 crowd was still milling around.

i walked downstairs and ordered a beer. i felt comfortable in my flannel shirt and denim coat, and standing in a sea of isolde dolls and colored guitars, you can't measure the awe. it was the kind of night you could easily lose your guardian angel, and i was alone amongst the crowed, viewing everything through undisturbed lenses and feeling high and fine.

after a few minutes the six piece local act began. they were new wave without trying too hard, two pretty girls were in the band, and the frontman had some style. the place was vibrating and everything was cool until i spotted an old girlfriend. we had dated for a while last year. she lived close to me, but i hadn't seen her since a break-up amidst much histrionics. shit, man. i cut to the other side of the floor in the crowd like a mischievous child trying to avoid getting caught. she was usually at this club when her hip hop friends were doing their thing, so i was surprised to see her on this night. i had originally met oscar through her, as oscar knew everyone in the music scene and she went to every hip hop show. a girl who'd won a squash scholarship to prep school and then university... i slugged my beer, grabbed another, and danced in the crowd.

before the show ended, i dipped out, and caught a cab back. there's something so peaceful about exploring the world alone, and i can't find the question that's on my mind, how could i?