the best frozen nugget on the market
“
My friend wears my scarf at his waist
I give him moonstones
He gives me shell & seaweeds
He comes from a distant city & I meet him
We will plant eggplants & celery together
He weaves me cloth
…
My friend walks soft as a weaving on the wind
He backlights my dreams
He has built altars beside my bed
I awake in the smell of his hair & cannot remember
his name, or my own.
— Diane di Prima (via fernsandmoss)
This guy seems like someone I would meet at a house party and talk about astrology with for a long time before eventually sleeping with him. I’d wake up in his bed that is covered in some indescribable grit (is it sand? Cat litter? Potting soil?) and right when I was thinking “I could fall in love with him if I let myself,” he’d roll over and tell me he’s into polyamorous relationships or something. I’d tell myself I can keep sleeping with him if I can just keep it casual. This would go on for months and at first I’d tell my friends about this situation with fascinated detachment, like I was describing someone else’s life, and later I wouldn’t tell anyone about it all.
All this I just assumed from the shirt and the pants and the big, weird guitar and the braids that aren’t quite cornrows, the overly earnest stage persona.
I think it’s time for me to get a job.
