I could hardly look at him. I stalled in my car. I stalled in the bathroom. My glasses were off so he could see my eyes but I couldn’t see the carpet at my feet. Silence. I’m not much into small talk especially when my head is loud. Meticulously observe every billboard to Broadway. We pull up to a bar with a cowboy singing and we drink and we drink and we talk. Now we are talking a lot. “You were a bartender. Make me something special I’ve never had.” I skipped ahead. It’s late now. Gin, cucumber, tonic water, lottery tickets, a swim. He has high arches. I have slender feet. I think he touches me for the first time. The couple leave. Back in the room we are both wet and I already made a mess with my things. He is a perfect gentleman, he helps me out of my suit. It has been a long time and my usual patience is gone. I want to be swallowed up like a shot. I want it to hurt and leave marks so that I know that I was here and it really happened. I want to be in one of his stories.
Clou le Fou
In conjunction with my photography exploring negative space, I have also been writing in that silent time between midnight and 4am, and here I have gathered memories and words from that space between dreams and reality.