Tlaçolteotl

"This is the day your life will surely change." -The The

She said, "I have this thing for crazed wizards." and it was exactly the right thing to say to me at that moment. We smiled in the pre-dawn pastel.

Her words hung in the air like dark gray smoke, thick and slow-moving. The steam of her breath just that dense.

My erection pulsed and tugged in my pegged Ben Davis pants. Her breath on my earlobe the sexiest smile I've ever felt. Her fingers strong and seeking, running rampant over me. Dirty hippie thoughts rocked me.

She was weaving visions, incantations, tongue twirling, swirling, making loops, forming knots in the air with words, terms and conditions of functions, portals to other modes, far junctions, that age old story of selfish men making shit happen in ways that set souls afire, and of the women who love them (and lord over their hate-filled children...)

Wait, no, go back, go back. Yes, just like that.

Her eyes made me know that things that were not true, were true. In my soul, I knew. Her body lied and lied, and her mouth lied to me, too.

But she had a thing for crazed wizards and it was perfect.

It was magick. We fucked like magick. We fucked and it was magick. We fucked until magick. We fucked. And then magick.

Sparks forming arcing magistery. Practicing forming functions. The accordion of a Saturday night. The tin whistle, the trumpet. The curt drum. The fiddle. The bar, the sweaty basement.

In a tableau we made and unmade together, we posed and we chose each placement.