jolie laide

jolie laide

I started this when I lived in Brooklyn and struggled for grace in a city that grants moments of beauty and ugliness breathtakingly close to one another. Now I live in a place where things are a different kind of ugly and the beauty is pedestrian. I struggle with that.


It is a crowded train and there are many people between us, but I see him from the eyes up, so beautifully blue and with such an elegant curve to his eyelid, a lyrical browbone.

The train goes deep underground. I am standing by the door and the seal is imperfect and there is wind flowing over my hand, the dark air from this tunnel.

I had a vision of my body with a vertical slot in it, positioned over my rib cage. A photograph would slide out of it, easily, but the last few inches needed to be tugged, painful.

He lit me up like a birthday cake, nine candles, one to grow on, pink icing rosebuds, even. He left without blowing me out and I am still burning.


Blogger Dr. S said...

Light it up, girlfriend. You shine so brightly.

11:34 AM  
Blogger ttractor said...

you gave me such a big smile! thank you!

12:10 PM  
Blogger remue-menage said...

you certainly are lit - from your scraped elbow, to your slotted ribcage

collarbone to hipbone

here's gazing at you

3:42 AM  
Blogger ttractor said...

remue, I want to hear more about your childhood home.

these days it feels like I am lit up all the time, and while it is thrilling, I am also more than a bit tired. The relentless restlessness can take its toll.

6:23 AM  
Blogger Dr. S said...


5:13 PM  

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