It was not out of fear that I left the jungle. It was for the trees. It's fall in the midwestern suburbs. The treetops have taken a pulse and I'm here beneath them in awe of simple things like: water collecting on top of candles left out; how inconsequential it is that they will never light again, the disobedient dog we own poking her head around the corner; curious about impermanence or the violent orange and red colors that I am.
Last night, I dreamt that I eviscerated you.
disembowel (a person or animal).
deprive (something) of its essential content.
In the dream, you were floating naked in the ocean. I held you up with my two hands that I used to plunged into you from underneath and behind with a great force and depth. You liked it, as you said you would. But then, I think, the flicker across your face said otherwise... said what I've been trying to tell you, which is, "that hurts." Two words too much. I get that.
Now, I even get the whole idea of not looking each other in the eye and the way you like to do me from behind. I'm not offended by it, nor am I ignoring the relevant argument of: "what does this say about you?" It says that I am an animal. It says that I am hiding in the ferns with the foxes, bleeding with the big moon above me. Nobody wants to hear that and I never wanted to think it either. Just so you know.
Beyond this scene of the dream, I don't remember much. I could say that we had another talk. This one went differently. You said something other than, "numbers, pie charts, numbers, decimals, subtract, subtract, I don't know what's on the other side of this equal sign..." but we didn't talk. All there was, was you floating, my two hands, and your head tilted back in an elated, panicked, pre-orgasm dubiety.
The problem here is how much I enjoyed seeing you: the glory of your satisfaction! While I just wound up waking up. Eager and hungry; having subconsciously and persistently eaten granola with artificial sugar for the past four days straight.