“The Manets are to die for.”
No.
“I really think Renoir is a master of—”
Screw that. He doesn't suffer Pretty.
The Van Goghs. Can’t miss there.
Exactly. Fuck.
Forget the paintings. Surprise him with sculpture. Something esoteric.
Camille Claudel. Rodin’s lover. Beautiful. Bonkers.
“I was overcome by her lugubrious . . . her libidinal . . .”
“I was seduced by her libidinal desperation.”
Bingo. Woman scorned. And all of that.
“Libidinal. Li-bid-i-nal.”
(What is that guard looking at?)
Fourteen minutes late is nothing, right? We once took an hour to eat an orange.
Yesterday, it took us an hour to eat an orange.
Yesterday . . .
He called me his Venus on the Waves.
He did not give his last name.
He did not buy the orange.
He did not buy me dinner.
He came to my hotel for the night.
He fucked me without a condom.
He threw up in my sink.
Yesterday.
“Oh--”
That goddamn ferris wheel does grind on.
And this morning . . . was it just this morning?
“Five o’clock, mon petit chou. I promise: Our love will stop all time.”
Those Picasso lips.
And rescued eyes.
Sunlight glancing off his watch.
Falling through the door.
But the clock’s hands. They are not stopping.
Fifteen minutes is nothing.
Right?
“Right?”
Hot guard. Coming this way.
Smile.
Smile.
It’s April . . . in Paris.
(What have you done to my heart?)
6 comments:
its like one of those things you understand in bits but you are glad cuz you know if you understood it fully your brain will start flowing through your ears....good stuff this...very good indeed :D
N
I've come by here from Clarity of Night and I LOVE the writing I've seen here. I shall be back again ... that is for sure. :-) These few scenes from Paris have really poured down on me; I used to live in Paris and now live in Lyon. :-) Superb stuff!
What an amazing portrayal of crossing thoughts. I'm afraid the 15 minutes will be significant after all.
You're a great writer, Sarah.
Thank you, nothingman and shameless! I'm happy I found both of your blogs, too.
Jason, it's amazing how many people have discovered each other's work through your blog and contests. You have much to be proud of (and thanks, again, for your kind words). :)
This one is a bit more abstract, but no less powerful.
This one broke my heart, Sarah. Both times I read it. Jason was right back in 2007--you are a great writer.
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