1989
swoon
soft light electric dance. empty and discoball slow spin to deburgh and his lady in red, the sports car recollection by the sparkling wine where the fire softly crackled and let the scent of the cooking drugs hideaway in a winter snowblow joy of warm stone still space clinging to the plastic wrap covering the life of any human, preserved for freshness and only taken out on special occasions and holidays. They had on warm clothes in the dry woodpanel bar heat when the door opened flash of red dress cut like mid80s elegent night. and enter the thick snow piling in like families on docks waiting for their cruise ship. smiling, laughing, gaining weight and slobbering over flesh soon to be rotting in the kind earth smiling like virgin mary in grandmother hallway
engulfing the germs and the pathetic sadness of humans picking at eachother and hugging in various degrees of heat and cold and sunlight and fog. out in the black and white night the smooth jazz radio station of a 1994 office building shuddering infinite huddled around the glowing speck of dark red and brown.
