we were darting down 5th avenue
heels and wing tips
seeking shelter from the rain
beneath each elegantly willing awning
when he decided i should experience
the finery new york’s art world had to offer
pulling me by the waist
through the glass doors of The Neue Galerie
my body slammed into the whitest of walls
trench coat and mouth forced open
we fuck-clawed each other
into an abstract painting
as a cocktail party roared upstairs
over midnight oil
singing beds are burning
4 replies on “baby, we aren’t going to make it to the party”
A well drawn scene complete with image (moving) and sound. I point to ‘we fuck-clawed each other into an abstract painting’ as brilliant descriptive allegory. Well done.
I’m humbled, thank you so fucking much.
I adore this and everything else you have and will write. This is the second of what will be many visits to your unbelievable blog.
Thank you
Dan
Dan, I’m both humbled and flattered. Thank you, sir.