Tonight straddling Ronnie (full name "Veronica") - Ronnie's my bike, and she's running clean and sharp, smooth as thighs in silk crushing warm on your cheeks, smooth as liquid glass, smooth as languishing, rum-soaked Caribbean sex, slip-sliding an afternoon away.
(Who my bike is named after - dirty/naughty girl heartbreakers...)
We were on two lane roads, sunset making the trees stretch shadows across the roads and on off to forever, I guess, an asphalted tunnel of sci-fi space dark, ruled lines and pools of blacker than black, highlighted with strobing bits of alien red sun flashing through like machinegun fire. And I was taking hits, thousands, but not from the sun's clatter - gnats. Bright green, not quite fluorescent swarming, filling the darkening space with a mist of protoplasm, through which I was blasting a tunnel, a me-and-Ronnie shaped tunnel. Millions died as I drove my art through them, my face sanded down to raw nerve endings by heroic gnats, bravely chancing that they were going to score in the swarm rather than wind up as a smeared abstract against the lenses of my glasses.
Tasty little buggers....
In Our Next Episode: More Ronnie...
Fuckin' brilliant.
ReplyDeleteI remember those days, biking through the countryside, leaving a slowly descending cloud of tiny dead insects in my wake and a green haze of them on my knees and faceplate.
I'm a big fan of both Veronicas. The lady whose picture you kindly commented on has hair that tosses over her face Lake-style, and it's extremely cool not only that despite her youth she knows exactly who I mean, but that said hair has awfully strong roots ...
Love this writing. More more!
ReplyDeleteI heartily third the applause.
ReplyDeletethe only trouble I had was the "sun's clatter" both because I don't know what that means but because when you said you were taking hits (or whatever you said) and clarified it was gnats, I assumed for a second before the clarification it was going to be something military- or gun-related.