simple

why find yourself asking questions that have no answer when really life is quite straightforward, and living it as easy as slipping back into a different language, slipping back into a different timescale, slipping back into someone's bed.

home is where the cheapest texting fare is

the drive from the aiport to the seaport was magical if choked with ancient exhaust fumes. i wanted to tell someone how much i loved it. i thought of all the someones i could tell and how much or not it would mean to them to hear it. i thought about who might so desperately and instantly need to hear this about me. i listed all the possibilities. i considered all the options. and in the end i texted myself.

buenos aires midnight

internal courtyard. pouring rain. rain pouring down the walls. back against a window sill. single drop running down a breast. hand pressing against the small of a back. water running down the contour of a spine. fingernails digging into shoulder flesh. arms round a neck. eyes closed. rain pouring down. down the walls.

rebenque, cogotera, fuste

we walked around the fair looking for horse-riding parafernalia. i had to explain "troglodyte" to him. fitting. he looked at me and cracked his newly acquired whip.

this sticky mess

wander round the streets of buenos aires. see the streets through other eyes. wonder if you can live there. daydream of floating in this sticky mess of fumes and dirt, leery men and sexy women, tango and steaks, river, sky, home.