A one time dinner I’m craving now.

Note: This is my own writing, I would appreciate any comments you have on it or anything you’d like to say. Thanks.

“Flood-light in the kitchen. Three AM. The refrigerator yawns fluorescence on the ceramic tiles; it spreads unevenly. The refrigerator purges neon beams on your stagnant feet. The refrigerator stains your face on the parallel window: a mirror-world of possibilities. I look at your archaic face and think crow’s feet. I think nasal-labial fold. I think you’ve wasted too much money, time and product because in that vague breath of treacherous light, you are all crease and wrinkle and antique. I know if I dig my eyes into you, as I often do, I would stalk the cerulean of your veins flourishing underneath your eyes, flawing through your droopy neck, sneaking down the neckline of your night-dress, behind your bra, forking through your breasts, running down your bare arms. The map of you is oxygenated blood is a geographical maze is a historical route is the gravitational pull dragging flesh from bone is your soft, three-story belly is the stoop of your back. I am thinking of your nails. Sterile in their clipped formality. They are the only part remaining of what you used to be. The only figment the reminds me of the novelty you represented to me. I focus on them, zoom-in like a camera’s hungry lens. I am channeling denial through my photographer’s focus.”