Serpentine, Volume 1, Number 3, July 1997


Small Interiors

by Jodie Sherman


          See
                                        la si, la siempra in her head, now-Raquela's voice interrupting this vigil... tooo. where'd she leave off/
          all denial that life might not be a linear thing of some biochemical chronology... says,
          "nothin' but the time takes it to get you there, la..."
                                        about life, she's talkin now. still.
                                        "and what's growin old too, around you..." she says. "and in you,///" she says, and what only grows steely in him... & whether he represents," er um... "any thread of outside-no-external... influence?" i can see her smilin' here... flayed plum skins now parting her teeth... "y'know i mean if he is to you then la, the 'outside world' la... don't think it's worth your sacrifice, la.
          He'll never get through, la, never get over, la
not it, la, or her la or, la, or you            yeah\"
          Raquela's image paddles away then, /y'know-that duck might be somebody's other 'n all... ha ha,,, i am so fucking funny...\
          Here only raquela's ethereal voice remains/the pictures sailing in, now out of la siempra's mush-melon head. It sayin' over heaved breath... "my god, honey, an there ain't nothing consistent or full of any lasting logic... everything changes, la, but some things just don't/till they perish, la.//see/" The visual returning, smoothing my hair... showing me now her half-pealed plum... "everything gonna be changin/even the way that you reason... cuz
          it's cause and effect, so the trappings can change... yeah. But only the trappings can change-"
          "Raquela, raquela... That does not follow!! There's a flaw in this non-reasoning, raqi buenosueno... a hole in this matrix of thing somewhere...
          THIS is not an if/then statement you're making...
                                        not an if/then affair..."
                    course, i don't say this to here in the process.../just listening, now, just recalling. These open seams of recalling...
          & How funny that nothing is black and nothing is white, and even when it thinks it is either...
                                        seemin so void of emotion all weighted & gauged with those things quantitatively reasoned... (hah!)
                                                                                                              oh mahnnn...
                              The Raquela voice, my companion in this lot/rings soft the dove coos and dull glow of obelisk moons/varied and many in the wee-morning sky...
                              She sayin, "guess that's the string you gonna keep pullin on all your life till the plug gives, see... You can think anything all you want, but when you blink and it is sooooo gone, " she says.
                              it's vapor, la.
                    just vapor...
                              this lifetime's a vapor la...
La Siempra
relivin' the plum tree talk
                    & there raquela peeling the remainder of skin from the flesh of dropped fruit.../
                              the inner fleshes fully exposed by the end...
                                                  what a sweet sad woman that raquela is...
          La Siempra snaps to 'fore she trips off the platform...
                                                                                                              step
                                                                                                                        three...
                              ahhh
strange sober moments of unsolicited enlightenment,
                    nearly plummeting the la freak to a certain demise, or something.
                    All of these threads come together now sudden/smack me into this painful aware that i'm/she's not so much "too big a drink of water,"
          no. more like just muddied water that no one can drink for too long-
                              & then, if you ask ms. raquela...
'don't amount to very much ever anyway...
                              even knowing...
"Dammit, Raquela!! Does it not matter you mighta learned something.
Does that not matter too? Oh man." And what did raquela say then...
                                                                                                    nothing/nothing.
just sails away___________________________________
___________________________________
____"Too many complications," jollo says, i think.. (i think it was jollo...)
                                                  all pompous in his denouement... where he's got it all drawn up to conclusion 'fore 'e says it, "just too much thickness," he says. "Can't even see what i'm drinkin no more...//from the sludge coag at your shaker bottom ... spikes from his face growing thicker with words
                    so thick,
                              la siempra, see/i/ see!!! i can barely now see who he is...
          "of sediments," these are whispers to his phantom,
'm tryin' a perish the bent to finish his thought/
                                        but/continue i do
                              anyway...
          "unsettled/before you reach that elliptical end-
oh jollo..."
                              LA SIEMPRA, SHE-I WAS CRYIN' THEN:
"BUT IT'S NOT THAT COMPLICATED!!
                              I'M NOT THAT COMPLICATED...

                                                  Ohhhh-uhhhh
                                 expletive expletive, vain and profane...
                                                            ohhhh man
stop.


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