Tim Lantz »
Fernando Pessoa
Dear neighbors,
If your moans collect in my own body, may I say you’ve penetrated me? Certainly, the vibrations you cause to course through the floor and up the chair into my ass allow me to participate in your lovemaking.
Still, I don’t know why I planned for furniture. After my body’s departure, the air mattress delays before popping back to its original shape. It sounds as though somebody were rising from the same bed after me, perhaps to use the bathroom, with the door open, stopping to give me a hug or a kiss on the cheek as she passed. The hall lacks footfalls, however, and I know I’m the only one pissing with the door open.
How ridiculous, then, to have a favorite bulb, but I do, even when it’s been burned out for days before I can find it. I slam doors within me where certain sensations were about to pass in order to be realized. Am I just another hall for you to echo through?
Sincerely,