On this afternoon when I was waiting for none other than my Self to show up from a clutch of great minds watching from beyond the Singularity, conception was in the air like Texas humidity, a kind of immediate washing sound in the atmosphere of “I have no feeling because I was murdered”…turning my brazen head to the courtyard and past the pick-up game going 80, Johanna came brightly through the myriad elements of glass and water, so perfectly did her arrival equal a lyric couplet of classiness and fluid nature…we exchanged mid-range smiles and I uttered an alcoholic hello when she got up close, then grabbed her into my arms for our first contact, a secret wonder…black and white in the square of sun…On the rooftop bar at Freaky’s, with the decorous view and then some, we sat and took in the palm tree's dance with the breeze…Johanna continued to soften and soften from her original Iguana’s texture, so much that dinner was by all rights a humorous and gangviolence-free affair…I was determined to drop a bon mot every thirteen seconds as I felt my mind charging back and forth with recurring guilt canvas frescoes of Ramona and these new black and white photos of betrayal…dinner got on fine in spite of this, with chicken and squid and one two three Belikans for me, and jerk chicken and rice and rum drinks for her…it was a short time between sobriety and a light sweet buzz…so we left the place with everything but our shadows, and headed directly over to the long dock of dockside, where some version of a bouncer bounced and gave me a sly look that asked how the Belizian Black Woman had arrived with an exotic white peer ivory man of paved streets, a future heathen, war mongor, scene stealer, outright Justice of the Peace…how plainly tricky this whole little homage scene was…but I took it as the demons of chance and the stars of a landscape built to dazzle…the violence and craft of my petty sexual life…I was following the poet’s heart into the newly reincarnated Dockside to do some metempsychosis get down to Blacky’s hip-hop heavy rotations…There were seventeen of us instantly doing the shimmy…and a great thing started to appear between Johanna and I…rapport…we had it in spades, which took us through some of the same close-knit dance moves, except now we were talking, getting in close, and exchanging a couple smooches...
- Michael Price
