On Tuesday night when I arrived in the Art Bar of the Gladstone Hotel to host my Orgasmic Alphabet Orgy writers open stage Michelle was already there. I went over to kiss her but she seemed cold. She was weird all night and during a break when I asked her about it she explained that she was tired.
I performed my poem “Wives of the Prophets”:
I want to love an African woman
ultra feminine and endlessly wrapped
in
colours cut from the sun
Yeah I want a girl
just like the girl
that married Mohammad
With eyes that shine like pools
in the Algerian moonlight
all engulfing and deep enough
to drown
a camel caravan
Yeah I want a girl
just like the girl
that married Abraham
With a callipygian badhida
so high it makes a heavenly derriere
I’d worship my African Aphrodite
till were waltzing in the air
I want to love an African woman
with slow moving hips that sway
like
date trees in the desert breezes
Yeah, I want a girl
just like the girl
that married the prophet Jesus
Michelle was also cold when we said goodnight.
Mary Milne drove me home and came in for coffee. When we came in I checked my messages and there was one from Michelle asking me to call her and so I did. She told me that she’d had a very intense session with her therapist that morning and he’d advised her that she was moving too quickly with me. I couldn’t talk long because I didn’t feel it was appropriate with Mary there.
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