tuscaloosa > personals > missed connections
Construct - Home Depot m4w
Date: 2010-09-02, 2:11PM CST
Let me build you a house. Here, a nail. Here, a piece of wood. I have told you that this will all be gone soon: the ground is unstable, the ground is not solid. I would rebuild this city for you if I could--I would place long smooth stones into the silt and we would walk on them, your heels digging into the gaps from time to time so you would stumble. My feet are flat--they have no arch, all things structurally flawed. My bones, they are soft. My skin, stretched thin and translucent from years of abuse, years of not building anything, years of not walking. When I build you something, something will be built. When I build you something I will know the meaning of this--to put my back into something, to know what power is and what it might be. The building we are in is taller than both of us together, we cannot touch the lights. When I build you something, I want you to stretch your arms above your head like you are praying, like you are praising. I want you to lay your hands flat on the ceiling, to bend your wrists backwards, to cause your muscles to tense up. I want your hands to feel the acoustics, to rub your fingers over the bumps like when you used to put your hand on my face, cupping my jaw, telling me that you like it when I don't shave. I will build you this because this will all be gone. We will have a housewarming party--we will tell our friends to bring red wine, to bring candles and cookware, to place oranges in a bowl and cover it with foil. You will wear a dress and I will wear a tie and we will answer the door: we will look through the small square windows--glass I broke into shards with my hands. When we open the door, no one will be standing there. When we open the door, the water will rush in.
- Location: Home Depot
- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
Copyright © 2018 brian oliu about toc