Step 1: Ask her out to dinner.
Step 2: Ask her to your home.
Step 3: Kissing followed by sex? Dinner followed by intimacy? Love as a consummation of stipulated, presupposed social processes? Or just, just that I feel too disconnected from the whole process to connect to it any more? Or just, that I am still in love with someone else or someone in my head or, or, my heart where the hell is my heart?
I want to jump out of an airplane, I want my parachute to cruise me over the flowing, cold, windy beauty of the world. I want to be unencumbered of presupposed body and self.
Place labels on the woman, she is supposed to enjoy them: beautiful, smart, beautiful, cute, very cute. Beautiful. Bonita. Belle. Krasavitsa.
I want to laugh, laugh past the social ramifications, I want to laugh like a child free of the rules of sociality, playing, enjoying, imagining. That's what I look for in a man.
My heart is still so crushed, like that island of stilled lava. Tiri Tiri Matangi. Black shards of surreality, that is my heart. Betwixt the lava rock exotic growths are sprouting, reaching for the sky. My heart is an island in transition.
