PLEASE HELP BLUE PRESS STAY AFLOAT

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Goodbye, Dirty Machine (part 74)


The day was expiring on the blue…there was a tremendous plus/minus charge in the air, a congeniality, brand new and foretold…I had made the date with Johanna for tomorrow night, and we had agreed to meet outside Freaky’s for food at seven, and then move on to Dockside for some boogie.   I had looked back as I wandered out the beachside entrance of the Tropicana, and caught that white grin glowing apace in my direction…tomorrow I smiled back…
      It would be easy enough to describe some lustful, hopeful, even dangerous thoughts from the ensuing 24 hours…would be easier still to go there like De Quincy in the den and tell all…she was a few minutes late and I was a few minutes early…which was no problem at Freaky’s because it was right left of town square where children whirled and spun, and stray dogs darted about looking for cast-offs in their never-ending quest for food…I could watch dogs for hours doing their routines, comedies of inquisitive looks, sanguine panting, play-wrestling, building hierarchies, and then tearing them down in great triumphs of fighting…so much pathos in canine, so much beauty and pure spontaneity, that brought tears to my eyes, wet with the water of former lives as dogs…to understand and love the dog is to love and understand all…as Ghandi said, “You can tell the moral fiber of a nation by the way it treats its animals.”   I saw four male dogs surrounding a bitch in heat, each waiting for a shot at the raw act of love, each sniffing and aching while one of them had his way…and fun it was to watch until the two got stuck (as nature has willed it for increased chance of conception)…it hurt all five of my senses as they yowled in unison and tried to pull free from the malaise in opposite cardinal directions, bending the poor male’s prick totally ass-undre while the bitch screamed and pulled…I learned from their mouths that pain was real in coitus, and I learned and learned from my perch as I waited for Johanna…Was there to be conception?   The question seemed to hang over all our pricks while the naughty odorless church God made sure there would be a new round of strays to wander the dusty streets…

- Michael Price