XXXXXXX XXX XXXXXX XXXXXX

did you know. a young condoleeza rice used to live across the hall from benyamin netanyahu’s parents. ?. contempt breeds contempt. my friend The D tells me i have an encyclopedic knowledge of Facts No One Gives A Shit About. correction, i tell him: Known Facts One Gives A Shit About. for example: at the time of buddy holly’s death (plane crash, tender age of 34), his wife (of eight months) had been pregnant with their first child. she miscarried. Known Facts One Wishes To Give A Shit About: good things do not everyday happen to good people.

sometimes my mother speaks to me from the future, and i feel the scalpel cutting me out of her womb. when i move to san francisco, i will have to take care of two dogs. empty the trash. slide across wooden floors by myself. familiarize the wind. mist. crayon-marked walls anew. when she leaves, i will have to lock the door. when we leave, the carcass of the grass will shudder in relief. can a mausoleum be alive? when you leave, but no, you never really leave. it’s only a matter of when, but not how. when i leave the effigy of the monument stands, and all we have to show for it is eternal ignorance. does amnesia amount to immortality? forged in the dew of stale saliva. orgasmic light be damned.

HOW THEY WILL REMEMBER HER, or, AN EFFIGY FOR ETERNAL PIXELS

  • she loved to talk loudly, had an abnormally large forehead, and an asymmetrical jawline. that’s all i really knew about her.
  • brilliant, but could never get a clue. you know what they say, you learn some, you miss others . . . and she was always weighed down by the absence of the others.
  • thoughtful, interesting to talk to. woman of integrity. nubile body, mostly funny. (but i’m lying. she was, most importantly, servile in the best way.)
  • i wished for her to join me. i have yet to return her voice, pay her the deposit. she was always on loan, you see.
  • she was vain, spoiled, oft depressed, and had a predilection for tantrums. but i loved her simply for the fact that she was mine. her narcissism only made her more in my likeness.
  • i wish she had lived to love me under the aurora borealis. when i see her next, i will remind her of the knife she left in my drawer. my bruise the size of a fetal kiss.

did you know, my best friend connie once told me. that the chemical compounds of ash take on the molecular structure of an X. really: i imagined a hundred thousand X’s scattered across an urn, quadriceps so fine they threatened to cohere. HERE LIES XXXXXX XXX. XXXXXX, XXXXXX, XXXXXXXX, XXXXXX. Known Facts One Gives A Shit About: the dead don’t really haunt us. it is we who haunt them.

when two sets of lips cohere, an X is formed. she signs the letter: till death do we part. what X has joined together, let X put asunder. can a mausoleum be alive? if so, let X run her heart out, away from her own spindly limbs. let the wind blow her into the sky, until she is ash no more, but sand. cohering on nothing but bare flesh, sliced open by sweet fetal kisses.

suiyi tang