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issue 4
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Copyright © 1996-2003 Nuvein Magazine. All rights reserved
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| Reluctant Rectangles in Political Circles |
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|by Enrique Diaz
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Dedicated to Dr. Nancy Gray who reinvigorated my love for literature.
I picked up. At the hamburger stand, the car parked. Give me a scratch, I said. You, you, you like to have fun. Yes, driving around and around and around. Can I touch you there?
That is not cake frosting on your lips. The frosting is white, your lips are pink. It’s not lipstick, I know. I’ve been using it for twenty years. It’s our secret. But I hate rumors. There’s nowhere to go but down.
That’s how things get started.
Adjectives chrome out. Verbs vinyl loudly. A noun paper ceramic red. That’s how stuff happens. Action brown wood and legs rug lavender. Excrement occurs.
Still, they have no cultural ties to us, not one. No, it’s only make a buck. Pencil book candy. That sounds right.
But I’ve never had any problem like that. Yet, a paper clip nose hit chocolate coffee lace. Ah, but you must admit television. An absolute battle rages on. And no one owns the radio station. Nobody.
Let’s go up, two methods of payment, forever and hair. Your hair is not eligible, you forever not long enough. Eternity is finite. Finite is a drug. Teacher, teacher it’s not fair. In Georgia, they’re bad. In Mississippi, they’re worse: died before making it to the hospital. Hayden Lake pudding black hole. We ran out of gas and huge hot-air balloons hot dogs galore walking up and down one-hundred-fifty dollars. One-hundred-fifty dollars! Black and Mexican dragging all night through the middle of town. Takes stealing one horse in Texas to lose your life, but killing two Mexicans before you even get a warning.
Virginia said not to do this. Stay cool, Geraldine, listen to Gertrude, listen. Ernest did.
It is exhausting.
The bestwoodgrainbutter. The be stwood gra in but ter. Opens up, butterfly green wire hard. (S)he walks the streets. Love neon, nuts and bolds fastened tightly to the gelatin. Please supermegaultra, but quietly. Oh, Friday, if only I could talk to you about this. Carlos, Octavio, Juan, and Agustin intimidate me. Elena does too. She’s obsessed with the red sunset. I suppose we all are, living in 1968. I guess it happened all over the world. I saw it at Huntley’s in Claremont.
Faster and faster, dizzy colognes everyone knows. Afraid and upset, I push buttons, I push keys. It was the bicentennial and Los Angeles was still occupied, like the Gaza Strip.
I’m sorry Virginia, but I must mention it. The teacher gave her a C. The teacher zipper grind men in high places. Homosexuals are sick and Muslims hate Mexicans the teacher says... the teacher says he loves god.
A wounded old human, sleeping in the woods, still young. Sometimes he ate, sometimes not. But never did he speak to people, for no one spoke his language, or wanted to. There are no cultural ties, not one.
And when stuff happens, something begins.
A life, a truck, a taco. We’re sitting, you know, in a coffee shop, sharing a chicken. I chew on its former left side. Outside, grass grows. The Heimlich maneuver is useless when someone is choking on traffic.
Dandelions, cats and dogs, old dentures and yellow pager abound float on aluminum can. Break it, break it. I don’t care about tomorrow or yesterday. Why can’t it be now? Why?
It’s long and sharp, crisply moving forward, non-bi-directional.
The reverend talks about the importance of sex, politics, and religion. Enraged, enlarged, emotional, a calendar perfume. It can be so opium plug the music and try. Black girl in a white dress, white girl in a black dress, the best representation of the yin and yang I have ever seen. It’s the fault of the individual.
A Mormom Alcoholic in Little Tokyo. A drunk priest in a desert city. White faces and scrambled eggs. Dean kiss and vomit. In the high tower lights below blue lying on the ground metal brushing stomach. Hold my hand. Regurgitate lights of color shine for blocks and blocks. I saw this in New York City too.
It took miles. In the darkness of morning they chased me. The tires kicked up dust over the pleasure of the night before. In San LUis anything is possible because the street is circular and the chapel holds the voices of angry ghosts yelling at us at midnight. Thy screamed and tried to get into the car, almost breaking the window.
Cold, cold, wind, wind, greenblack whistled.
The Chocolate Mountains gypsum deep sea fishing up. When they broke up the ring of pimps, innocent bystanders didn’t get away. Daniel handed me the rifle as the crickets were lined up at the edge of the cliff. The snitch was moved to another room and she, brand-new, slept alone one last time.
He grabbed me by the neck and squeezed hard. The Chocolate Mountains behind, always in sight. A jet plane crashed. The pilot didn’t eject. The sergeant had three children and a wife and the Colorado River was warm as the earth at its shores. Sinking down, sinking in, the car engine cooling.
The flap flipped, HélEne. Sicks Us.
Meetings unkept. Voices wet me, showers of words. Bathroom walls reflected in University classrooms. Unmet Thailand, inept swank bankrolls deodorant under arms. Unment Thailand cries.
In the depths of Cala Lilies, I bury my nose, pistils suffocating. Sicks Us, HélEne. Lovely, isn’t it? In Ecuador I was into culture. On Main Street, I just was.
Let’s make it happen. I like noise. I love plastic. The revolution was fought on a polyester battlefield. Art fools dance. Jane came to the disco in a Catholic girl’s uniform with spiked choker and obligatory partner in full leather, cat ‘o nine tails in hand love attack. Miss Viva’s gun was fake, but the boy in the wheelchair really cut a rug with the seventy-year-old lady. Too bad they cut his friend up in the alley, too feminine.
I don’t hate fags, you said, I hate pansies. Men have license to be fags as long as they’re men. Who escorts the ladies in Santa Ana when all the illegal aliens are shipped back to Tijuana? The ladies with dangling flaps tied round like showgirls in Las Vegas, jump around trees. It’s a hot, busy night.
Sammy and Tammy work together on opposite sides of the street. The woman trade is heavy both for heavy is the man trade. So, your father was a general in El Salvador? Accounting is a profession. But now you eat out of garbage cans in Orange County? Dark streets in Beverly Hills, teens behind the church like on the stae with a syringe.
I can’t hold on to it Virginia.
Take my hand. Let’s start something. We could have such a good staff. Many people like me, but none of them will come. Especially on New Years. In Gerogia, the old human spends holidays alone. Heart beat round slivers transparent pink cares. Don’t think anymore five manuals unseen flaps progress into void avoid. Tax evasion is a crime.
Sunbeam smile crystal squint volunteer fires. Continue pines in Spain solitutude armies guard the right daisies. The Generation 90 was right a hundred years ago. Chase mice brick campers flying sirens viewing cigarettes lit in speed light years. It’s a capital offense.
Little baby, we’ve got to do it.
Slime lemon late, lining trophies Juana, Juana, Juana banana. Simone leemon! That’s right, right on. What did Simone know about the Marquis?
Juana left beautiful words about Laura. When I’m lonely, scared, confused and thirsty, Juana’s love for Laura church worst of all letters glow. Four-thousand years ago chubby man forms world. They made her sing in her own blood, the viceregal protégé.
Caray garay, bombs in half, everyday, in half all over, you’re right. It’s two everywhere. Are you bi... lingual?
Our hearts pounded fax machine squeezed totally Chinese food. That’s why they fired Tom. But at the newspaper armed guards police off duty over it. Who’s a noodle junkie?
We’re going up, we’re going up!
You did say network newswoman ends up dead. Jessica is gone. I haven’t seen Deborah lately. The students walked out of a the class when the reverend got excited: sex, religion, politics. He knows Mom and Dad.
Philosophy complained. The department inquired penblack pennies. Christopher gigolo drug running Vegas whore flipped tiny Sicks Ooze and wouldn’t pay but broke her ribs. Truth oozed out every where. In front of a multitude of hands handcuffed only children freedom from think-ing.
Filipinos don’t use accents. Okay, so I’m like Charlotte. Caray garay! Fluffy fat teddy bear of a book. Are you really going to do dis? Ies ai em. Ai ruili, ruili em.
Russian men stand around drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes. America, Armenian voice, gold box with no key. Russian women, Muscovites, aaah! So, we’re sitting in this coffee shop and you’re telling me the commercials were wrong? What can I possibly believe then? The Cala Lilies are still blooming.
An angel burned up coming out of the community center, the lesbian face. Sylvia healed me.
Taboos fascination at eleven hiding from make-up. Holding the water hose in front of the avocado tree, watering. Eleven out of ten agree, dry cleaning.
We’re going to go up, not down. After the chicken, or maybe before soup and salad, coffee always in Spanish and English. Never stop to give directins, especially at twilight. Emaciated trees planted in concrete manila folders big names white.
We’re going to hell in an egg basket and I’ve got the athlete’s foot to prove it. I got it from my husband. He says he got it from me. Hey, it beats crabs, or something, or something. Even your toes are squishy life computer spigots.
Amputated serts at the railroad station, hundreds run all at once. It’s basically only pregnant women. Money is pretty while the people fight about polyester. Two people never keep secrets.
Erector sets apart.
Four abused women in a horror tale. It’s almost holographic in rounded circumstances. The doctor said it worst cancer K.
But where is the love? None at the top and none going down.
Reminds me of a mormonfathercatholicbrotheralcoholic, caught in some kind of a loop. He says they don’t grow, they don’t change. Nothing affects them, the wisdom of the coffee cup ages.
Black death the brotherwaitress said dancing fruitgun in pick up. Oh, Walt, sergeant in Yuma, spirits in Jalisco, witches of Costa Mesa throwing oranges into the Pacific Ocean.
It’s not going to work in purple. Don’t laugh so hard; everyone’s looking. But we have to build something earring stone impaled rubber.
There’s Frida, where I first saw her, walking along the hedge by the water’s edge, contemplating the plaza. A race against verdicts chugs along Asian Punjabi crossroads during a blizzard at UCLA.
Stuff has to happen!!!
Okay, Virginia, so I’ve totally lost it. The supervisor flopped like a fish out of the water when they tied her to the gurney and rolled her into the quiet room.
Sigh, sigh, quietness conditioned air viral cancer.
I swear my mother knows nothing about money. She never learned the language.
Street lights coming on, rushing foam over cathedral middle elementary ages liquiorcaffeinecrack to feel all over wiggly squiggly, crazy caray garay.
So many sings out the window. The cake frosting is white, on your lips pink color why behind cave closed hard.
It was romane that started it all. Let’s erect a monument. I said give me a scratch. You, yo, you said in the seventh grade. |
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