Out of the blue sometimes I’ll get 28 text messages from Alex. Its a complicated rhythm, something you wouldn’t dance to…you kinda have to sit down to read it. The message was thick yesterday- concern for the sailor, the disappointment of a child who knows she won’t get married in time for her daddy to walk her down the isle. I think we all felt some of that “holy shit I didn’t get to do that yet” feeling when he said Bone Cancer.  Death does have a certain finality to it I don’t care what you profess to believe, turning the page on this life makes one think. Gratitude is what I saw in his face. Soon the mysteries of the universe and the deepest oceans of thought will be his. I am not jealous of his price but I am anxious for the prize- to know ones place in things. Some stride toward death like its a climax to life, others fall and crumble at the door. “Even the way down will be an adventure” he told me. Indeed my friend, breathe it in.

2 thoughts on “Climax

  1. I chased the silverfox through the coffee shop. To hear her talk of him sounds like soldiers who lost a limb but can still feel it. Her phantom pains will not end so easily as death will snuff ours. The ones in your head are always the last to heal. They have all gotten so good at saying so little- I feel as tho a speaker for the dead. Speak now damn bastard. Your offerings here will be scripture and salve to burned hearts. This is the time they think you have lost, the time they have lost. We must break bread together soon, I desire your clarity. A big faced red cardinal stares at me through my window. This is not the end and that body was never really yours anyway.

  2. Sex is an oscillation. It is a wave of pleasure. For it to be transferred the harmonic between two lattice must vibrate. Even those short on time can deliver a devastating blow. Climax fails to occur when you are a living contradiction. If you don’t want someone sucking the remaining life out of you….take out the straw. Climax becomes easy fare for her when you are a frozen memory in her drink. There is nothing like a going out with a bang. Sensuality for the female is not only a vibration of pleasure in which her memory is bathed, it is a charge of electric joy at contact with another. I can time the accuracy of my touch with the cold touch of her memory of me. —–Time Keeper

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