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A Very French Sharpness.

Shimmer flash crystal lights. The flow of light, club lights. How I sat on the streets drinking Oolong tea whiskey from a can. The French guy, repeating. Salary men around. I was Frenchie. There was a jaguar. Dead, encased in glass. Shaved engravings. There’s puke falling down each step. Kicked out. Keep being asked if I’m gay. Moment sharp, how swiftly people passed around. Bodies slipping my clothes. Binary shuttering strobe, seizure level. Cut my lip. Silver girl, held her icy hand. Echoes of his question on the wall. Aluminum can spilled down the stairs. Rainbow of puke. Sense my inner, my face. I scratch mine and I’m sharp. Look at faces, see the bitterness, the softness. Down the escalator into the political machine. Body enters the speaker from which propaganda departs.

Bisoux. I should tell him. That it is a kiss I want. Will be saving the leftovers from that French boy’s kiss. Man walks in confused. I am too, confused. Taiwanese man sat next to me in onsen naked. We all sit naked. Comfortability in nakedness. Nakedness in ancient onsen. Royal. Old man. Breeze of ocean. Cool up, hot down. Purple sunset & dark cave of grape. Share a meal of tuna, slightly grilled, an orange lime. I dream of the egg, tempura shiso leaf. Dream of my dad. Touch my body as I enter the hot spring water. My brother awakens in a drunken night. Lessons from my master, my teacher. Teacher runs nude up his stairs. Bare old ass. Calls me a whore. Acknowledge that club kiss. The way I ran out & why.

Not the weather to be slurping oysters. Liquid in the shell splashes onto us. Wasn’t oysters, but snails. Escargot. Platonic. Bought me escargot, wine to pair. What are the things you’ve yet to try? Many pops in head. How he reached his arms for me as I met him on the street, under the lights, my big bags, tired eyes. Two kisses on the cheek. Bisoux. Awoke to assortment of pastries. Baked, complex layers, window open, my clothes dried, fresh-brewed coffee. Sailor in France, my striped shirt I would wear, what is the purpose of the stripes? Catch some fish, teacher has shown me how to love them. Sounds of the knife riding along its bones, never cracking them. A soft wave of the hand, a hello. A hello from the French boy. A sea surrounds him, tides of people. Repeating a question. I would never answer. My answer is a step forward each time. Silver-haired girl, friend with spiked hair. Too normative for surrealist subculture. Salary men drag me to the table, enter the castle, champagne gold mist in crystal glass. Touch of my own face, touch others’ hand, visions of past. I sat in hot onsen water. Turning into onsen egg. The tides hit against the rocks. Mist covers us. Historic bodies, who’s held you, what parts have hurt you?