Watch-parts were only the vessel AND THEIR BODIES MOVED LIKE THERE WAS NO TOMORROW. Shifting and leaning, falling toward the waves and getting sucked into the crowd. It was crowd-surfing on the hopes of tomorrow’s generation. Dancing through the thick of it. Being elevated to flight. Having no choice but leaving the ground behind, and flying forward, flooding lymph. “Well, mother always told me to treat the prettier girls nicer than the ugly ones,” he said.

Watch-parts were only the vessel and her large eyes looked up in amazement. Giggling and falling prey to the caress of the wind, the tickle of spirit, the puppetry of the divine. It was a marionette’s orgasm, strings in the hands of Other, of An Other, of outside.

“Just remember to look her in the eye, and don’t forget to smile.” And the term masochism used to exist in its own realm.

“Upstairs?” she said. “I love upstairs.”

“Just make sure you stay in the saddle, you two,” Grandma chirped in. And everyone was donning furs and striking poses by the fireside.

The twosome turned into a threesome, and off to bed they went, skipping, humming, singing.

“I believe…” he said, but he couldn’t form the words and his mouth moved, but nothing came out and nothing came out and watch-parts were only the vessel. Ticking by, jumping through dragon-holes, and then there were devil horns and even the quartz movement couldn’t compete with that.

Reloading to find a mutual rhythm. Beginning again and again and bowing down to the swaying of the hips, the bucking, the movement of the eyes, the spinning, and every sweet Indian girl orders Korma on dinner dates.

She wanted him.

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