i've been gone awhile. this is what i've been doing.
I drank white wine last night,
which is rare for me
without you.
That I bought it with a friend
whose love has run aground
means nothing unless you give
coincidence a chance.
But there was definitely something
in the white wine
that had part of our story
and wanted the rest.
I wasn't prepared
for an invitation to that activity
but it came naturally.
Let me put it this way.
In the odour of it now
was the flavour of it then.
(You know how the senses work
on us.)
There you were, kicking
your way to the surface of my evening,
and not because you found something
pretty at the bottom.
I watched you kick
for quite some time.
It was the white wine
kept us going, wasn't it.
Through the fiasco like two old thesps.
(You've got to play the madness
at its own game.)
All I really care about now
is the ache in my gut
from staying up late with the white wine,
listening to love songs
full of excuses.
I drank white wine last night,
which is rare for me
without you.
That I bought it with a friend
whose love has run aground
means nothing unless you give
coincidence a chance.
But there was definitely something
in the white wine
that had part of our story
and wanted the rest.
I wasn't prepared
for an invitation to that activity
but it came naturally.
Let me put it this way.
In the odour of it now
was the flavour of it then.
(You know how the senses work
on us.)
There you were, kicking
your way to the surface of my evening,
and not because you found something
pretty at the bottom.
I watched you kick
for quite some time.
It was the white wine
kept us going, wasn't it.
Through the fiasco like two old thesps.
(You've got to play the madness
at its own game.)
All I really care about now
is the ache in my gut
from staying up late with the white wine,
listening to love songs
full of excuses.
Mary in Medias Res
She's thinking about the letter from her parents and the reply she won't have the energy to write by the time she's home from the shoot. The debate seems pointless, in any case, since her father says his daughter's a whore and her mother won't persuade him otherwise.
Thank god I'm a grown woman, she thinks, as her co-star Mike enters her from behind. Thank god their opinion is just another fact. But what unsettles her still is that phenomenon of emergent adulthood: the realisation that one's elders can be naive. Her sister Rebecca calls this 'cognitive dissonance'.
Two or three times a week they meet for lunch in the cafeteria of their shared campus and have high-powered conversations about the world in a grain of sand. It was Rebecca who told Mary that taking a course would be the perfect way to apply her disposable income.
Neither of them guessed that cultural studies would include a module on pornography, in which Mary learned a great deal about the hypocrisy of men. 'We'll continue this conversation when you guys have made up your minds exactly how and when women should be fucked.'
The truth was she hardly cared, and Rebecca's observations were nothing new. 'But of course you're a whore. So am I. And mum too. She talks about you making it on your back but I don't see how that's any worse than making it on your feet.'
Their mother was a waitress and barmaid a long time ago and they grew up with horror stories about guys who would make a single drink last for hours. Mary's reminded of their roving hands every time a colleague slaps her backside to signal a change of position.
So Mike flips Mary over and with a smile she rises to take him in her mouth. He winks and reaches for her crotch, which he massages in his funny way. Mike's a sweet guy but she wishes he hadn't asked her out to dinner. She's heard from the other girls about the dangers of bringing romance onto the set or, worse, 'taking the dick home'.
She can taste herself now; it's strange but not unpleasant. She knows this business is just a case of plus and minus, putting one thing in another. Not for the first time, though, she's nagged by the feeling that life makes objects of people. Eventually, they come.
She's thinking about the letter from her parents and the reply she won't have the energy to write by the time she's home from the shoot. The debate seems pointless, in any case, since her father says his daughter's a whore and her mother won't persuade him otherwise.
Thank god I'm a grown woman, she thinks, as her co-star Mike enters her from behind. Thank god their opinion is just another fact. But what unsettles her still is that phenomenon of emergent adulthood: the realisation that one's elders can be naive. Her sister Rebecca calls this 'cognitive dissonance'.
Two or three times a week they meet for lunch in the cafeteria of their shared campus and have high-powered conversations about the world in a grain of sand. It was Rebecca who told Mary that taking a course would be the perfect way to apply her disposable income.
Neither of them guessed that cultural studies would include a module on pornography, in which Mary learned a great deal about the hypocrisy of men. 'We'll continue this conversation when you guys have made up your minds exactly how and when women should be fucked.'
The truth was she hardly cared, and Rebecca's observations were nothing new. 'But of course you're a whore. So am I. And mum too. She talks about you making it on your back but I don't see how that's any worse than making it on your feet.'
Their mother was a waitress and barmaid a long time ago and they grew up with horror stories about guys who would make a single drink last for hours. Mary's reminded of their roving hands every time a colleague slaps her backside to signal a change of position.
So Mike flips Mary over and with a smile she rises to take him in her mouth. He winks and reaches for her crotch, which he massages in his funny way. Mike's a sweet guy but she wishes he hadn't asked her out to dinner. She's heard from the other girls about the dangers of bringing romance onto the set or, worse, 'taking the dick home'.
She can taste herself now; it's strange but not unpleasant. She knows this business is just a case of plus and minus, putting one thing in another. Not for the first time, though, she's nagged by the feeling that life makes objects of people. Eventually, they come.
