NADYA IMAGINES.
Posted: July 21st, 2012, 4:36 am
If she could have got
inside her head, Nadya
thinks, she is sure, her
mind can expand like an
inner universe. The thoughts
moving around like lost
planets, clusters of stars,
images, words, faces, actions
remembered. If she could
just put her hand into a
hidden orifice and reach
into her brain and sort
amongst the galaxies of
ideas she could be brighter,
braver, wiser, and there
clinging to certain ideas
associations like Proust’s
madeleines would be old
loves, broken heart moments,
melodies from favourite songs.
Josef has told her to leave
off the booze, to put away
the bottles, drink water, tea
or whatever. But he does
not satisfy. His love making
is a joke, all push and poke.
Sometimes she thinks her
thoughts come out of her
head and dance. Time for
another drink. She thinks
of Paris. Summers past,
spring walks. Josef’s endless
chatter breaks in; those all
too intellectual boring talks.
She imagines him as another,
pretends some young Russian
overeager tends to her, embraces
her body, kisses each inch of her
flesh, pleasure giving. No more of
this boring life, more of that wild,
touching the new, exploring sex, living.
inside her head, Nadya
thinks, she is sure, her
mind can expand like an
inner universe. The thoughts
moving around like lost
planets, clusters of stars,
images, words, faces, actions
remembered. If she could
just put her hand into a
hidden orifice and reach
into her brain and sort
amongst the galaxies of
ideas she could be brighter,
braver, wiser, and there
clinging to certain ideas
associations like Proust’s
madeleines would be old
loves, broken heart moments,
melodies from favourite songs.
Josef has told her to leave
off the booze, to put away
the bottles, drink water, tea
or whatever. But he does
not satisfy. His love making
is a joke, all push and poke.
Sometimes she thinks her
thoughts come out of her
head and dance. Time for
another drink. She thinks
of Paris. Summers past,
spring walks. Josef’s endless
chatter breaks in; those all
too intellectual boring talks.
She imagines him as another,
pretends some young Russian
overeager tends to her, embraces
her body, kisses each inch of her
flesh, pleasure giving. No more of
this boring life, more of that wild,
touching the new, exploring sex, living.
