Conversation #124

-If you want it neat?

-Jazzy…

-No, its neat, and yes, something like this, that sing song way you have of always falling through the floor, then below, listen, don’t look at the stars, look into the myriad way my skin is speckled.

-Speckled?

-Frozen, and always with the questions, can you ask me something again?

-What color is the way a woman says no?

-Colorless… The color is when the thought becomes the cloud which her lips kiss then let go.

-May I?

-Always.

-What interests me about you is the disintegrated way you compose the pieces of the puzzle, you say, ‘I would prefer not to,’ and I know that you would, but I am fascinated by the mystery which rests between. You tell me one thing and in part, I want to believe you, yet it is the possibility of what it is that you see existing on that surreal island I have built for you that masks the actuality of what it is you say having any truth, for as much as I want to, or do in fact believe you, it is the shade which these words of yours live within which have kept me within the grove of your smiling cheeks. I do not want to know if it is so or not, only do I want to know how you imagine such fanciful things and bring them to life.

-I have a yarn for you and this is how it rolls…