Monday, July 11, 2011

Clit


With the well wish of the Fairy Godmother, bathe in the pools of the Mediterranean, dive under the prismatic foam and wash yourself with the sloth of the Caribbean. Wear the smile of Rio de Janeiro. Shroud yourself in the scent of Paris, wear the ideals of Milan. Let feather-light caresses touch your virgin skin. Sigh at the reunion of cloth and flesh separated by years.

Hasten to the sister of Malate, and walk to the doors with the bearing of England. Be cryptic, be aloof, be alluring. Become the mystique frozen in Vogue. Enter the dizzying lights of Tokyo. Be as sophisticated as Singapore. Head on with a muted swagger, smile, get a bottle of Ethanol. Sit on a table, alone, but with the command of the Dragon Emperor.

Give in to the music, break your walls down. Stand up, get another bottle. Stay. Glance to your left, catch an eye. Look to your right, wear a smile. Be as gentle as Thailand, and as friendly as the Philippines. Greet back, answer a question, smile. They will see your star-eyes.

Be unlike Ella, do not heed the midnight. The witching hour begins. Sway with the lupine grace of the cold north, be as regal as Siberia's striped white lords. Look around, see your First, smile. Turn your head. Catch their eyes, blow them kisses, get another bottle. Head around, call your friend, find your shoulder tapped.


Look back. Smile. Let recognition dawn upon you. Smile at the friend unheard from, and follow him. Smile, sparkle, let your soul shine through. Find your friend hitched, and the lucky guy, a friend of your First. Smile at Fate, talk. 


With the freedom from the broken walls, soar, talk, smile, become who you've always suppressed. Laugh, get another bottle, talk. Get told that you're fucking cool, and smile at the unexpected words. Thank the friend's man with the sincerity of Potala. Be as elegant as  Taj Mahal. Let time flow, give in to the ebb. Bid your friends goodbye, newfound and rediscovered.


Head out with the enlightenment of Angkor Wat, be as arresting. Head on in search of manna. Smile, carefree, at everyone getting their fill. Await your turn. Eat, lock eyes with those next to you, smile. Finish your food.


Leave, and grab a coach. Choose one for a Prince, and reveal your destination. Sit on the sidewalk by your friend's house's gate. Seek him out. Welcome him as he does you: with the Buddha's truth in your smile, and the warmth beyond of Teresa.


Talk for hours, sling jests back and forth. Paint the walls with your dreams and your fears, your secrets and with your everything and your nothing. Share a laugh, and thump Clit across with his own pillow. Listen to him sing(you never knew he could sing) and then talk some more. Wear yourselves out with all that is good. Sleep like a prince without the pea. Clit is but a breath away, the older brother you never had, and as dear as one could be. 


This is the sleepover your childhood never had.


You are with your friend. 


You are with Clit. 


Sleep, Clitopher.


This is more endearing than Lupa's den with her Romulus and Remus.



7 comments:

  1. dare I ask who the Fairy Godmother is in this story? hehehe. must be Kane. :)

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  2. Sit on a table, alone, but with the command of the Dragon Emperor. <----- my favorite line! :)

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  3. Don't forget, Mr. Monk, you're joining me next time.

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  4. Okay, I don't get this. The pussy references distracted me. haha

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  5. Very nice read. I must admit "Clit" dragged me to this. I should have anticipated another journey with a bus. An Asian tour!

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  6. this is beautiful, Clitopher. HAHAHA

    you are ONE talented kid. :))

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  7. don't let two gay friends calling each other clit fool you, folks :)

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