aspasia

But I am joking; that was a joke and she would laugh as she said, only cheese steak is less forgiving than satin. I would like to think of her laughing. I would like to think of her starved back framed by a green dress and clasped by a safety pin. As is natural, I would swoon at her chic bob. As is natural, like a photo shoot or Zen garden we starved. We had a relation that was organized in a particular way. Our tousled love was pruned at impossibly natural angles; we looked blankly. With our mouths parted, we bit our cheeks. With heavy eyelashes, there were bones in the foreground. We were natural such that ballerinas are natural. We had an imitation glow that approximated both health and arousal. What I mean is, there was work for this relation; I worked for our relation. When I say I worked, I mean I did a minimum of positive action. In this way, I was a ghost. We break as particles break. I moved towards ghostliness. When I say our, I mean mine: transparency denies erotic grouping. I worked hard for my objectification, including my tactility. That is what I mean when I say I worked for our relation; when I say ghost matter.