BROADCASTS.com

I can’t stop staring. The deep dark black center of her gaze is promising every little thing is going to be all right. I’ve been fasting on water only for three days. I tell myself it’s for my best performance. I have no money. I am waiting. The weakness turns into strength. She forces me to shift my perspective in eating. Its not about a tiny body babe, its about the energy. She remembers starving. She starts crying. I reach for her, my fingertips stub themselves on fogged glass. I turn the shower off and step into an empty bath, no running water. Nothing to drink, I remember. I start crying. ‘Come back she screams!’ 

            ‘Felice Felice Felice. Little bratty baby, I haven’t gone anywhere.’ I jump on my bike and head for the library. She’s the first thing I see. I sit. I write. I laugh out loud by accident. I start singing too quietly for anyone to hear. I need to pee. I watch her walk. My knees grow weak but I’m walking anyway. I’ve been still; it’s time to prove my body’s ability to bring death back to life, its time to dance. I want to prove my history to her. I want to bleed desire like a wet painting dripping down the wall before her gaze. 'Here’s my story. I’m still painting. Wanna watch me? I can’t keep these clothes on to save my life. Wanna watch me paint all over my own skin? Wanna steal the brush and insist we take a break from studying all of mankind. Call me my love. Let me rest. I’m so tired. I am so weak in the need of your touch.'

            When I go to wash my hands, she’s already at the sink. She’s staring into her own love. I can’t look away. ‘Hey. Listen. I can dance. Let me prove it.’ I wipe my wet hands on my jean jacket and take it off. Hand it to her, ‘Here, hold this will you?’ She reaches. I move my feet and thighs like a Bachata Reggaeton remix; I move my hips like she’s already inside. My belly weeps over the state of its own strength. My guts fall in love with themselves. My chest screams, begs for her touch. My shoulder bones tick and roll, my fingers flow in any direction they see fit to match my body’s beat. Rhythm steals my cheeks. My chin bounces. One dimple, on my left, steals the attention of the entire room. There’s no one in this bathroom but her and I. ‘Steal me.’ I let slip from my lips. She takes everything all over again. I give away what’s mine to give. I let her naked frame hide me from the whole entire world. I let her make the rules. I let her keep them a secret. I let her read me to sleep every night. I let her feed me whatever she likes. I let her decide when to turn out the lights. I leave her in control of the dark. ‘My love, do as you like, I am here only to dance for you. Show me how to move. Touch me; teach me how you want me to need.’

            ‘Shhh. Not too loud baby. You’ll get me fired from this sweet gig. Its better we be careful. We’d fall off the face of the world without of a job.’  I grab her cheeks and turn her face to the mirror. ‘Work for this! Your work has become working for your voice until it aches more than you can bear. From now on, you work for me and me alone. No more silencing this flesh that you adore. Spring begs of song, of sex, of longing to love and nothing else. Its time baby girl! Listen. We’re all fucking whining for it!’ I take the jacket from her and throw it on the floor. I pull her brown belt towards my hips. I teach her how read the movements of my pelvic bones. ‘Where are they telling you to go?’ I test her.

            She puts one hand on the side of my face and brushes the dimple off with her thumb. She forces the other palm down my black jeans, between my thighs. ‘Home. They keep bringing home.’ She whispers, still careful not to draw the attention of her opposition. 

            ‘Be careful young man. This is serious game we’re playing, stop fucking giggling so much. The time has come to recognize our own beds burning. Its time to pay for the homes we never shared.’