Flamenco

I suppose it's similar
to the silence you keep
towards the long lasting lover
when his smell fails to incite
the roll of the shoulders
and his kisses lose texture
like some digital photography.

I suppose it's similar to
dependency on the well known
and the unbearable idea of
returning to solitude and that
impenetrable void that mangles
the persona and his ways.

I suppose it's simply called
falling out of love-
a desperate revenge for things unsaid.
(what was just said?)

And so the ego will of course entice you
to remain in this dull affair
a safe nest built in 6 years
of loneliness
a silk cushioned net meant to feed
the need for emotional fulfillment.
but falling out of love
it will eventually occur
that
one morning
you will allow the nest to
roll from under your limbs
a graceful fall resulting in
heaps of slashed hay
and you will feel absolutely nothing
and you will put the 5 pairs of clicking shoes away
and you will lock the skirts in a suitcase
and remove the b&w pictures from the
electric blue wall
and stop spending money
and sit with wide eyes
enthralled and incredulous
at the utter disinterest
-even boredom-
that stings through the
videos and the burned cds and the people and the words and the polka dots and handkerchiefs and the crossed eyebrows and pursed lips and you cannot fathom how it all became meaningless one afternoon.
and you cannot remember
which afternoon.

Apparently your life was just an obsession.

The next day you take out the soft black shoes
you've been storing for 7 years
and your heart is racing
at the sight of a regained talent
You wonder if it is similar to being on rebound
or if this is really it.
The drive is different of course
especially now that you're getting laid all the time
now it's about endless consumption of cappuccinos
and blinding spotlights
and elbow length gloves
and deafening cries
and the readiness of a big American city
and fuck art
it's gone and it doesn't matter anymore
so is this really it?
It's impossible to know
everything is intolerably uncertain
except the fact that
one day you love something deeply
and the next you will not.