forever over the sour years go once beautiful girls everyone stuttered dullard grey pearls cancerous city of poison seers bitter traffic of deathly tears over the static years forever curtain go down on beauty forever over the stale years go once beautiful boys everyone dullards grey pearls stuttered city of poison sears cancerous bitter traffic of deathly tears over the static years forever go down curtain on beauty
forever sour the stale years go once beautiful men everyone dullards grey pearls cratered city of poison seers cancerous bitter traffic of deathly tears over the static fears forever way down on beauty curtain go forever hang the stale years on beautiful women everyone cracked grey pearls cratered city of poison sears cankerous bitter traffic of dead tears over the sour years forever curtain go down on beauty
That is the landscape, the panorama they sell us each and every living second and so we took it down off all the rusting nails on all the filthy walls, us, Bug Eyed Peter and The Sunrise Girl, me, Alba and took ourselves out of town and burnt it all to ashes and held a funeral service for all the priests and prophets, crooked death salesmen, each and every one, under the Great Wide Milky Way and we scattered the ashes into the stars and planets and bits of their broken satellites and twisted dreams.
We were looking at each other, holding each other’s hands gently, we were in the dark, a jet black shooting stars night, Peter, and we were cool naked and your penis was falling and looking kind of pathetic and my little breasts too and we were shivery and ghostly white thin, insignificant, sad looking, and you looked up into the galaxy and told me she was of the same star sign as me, well almost, you said, and you began to laugh so hard you doubled up at the waist and you laughed so hard you cried and there was nothing left in all creation except your laugh so I knelt down and held your laugh in my hands and I can never see you cry so beautiful without crying myself and so I cried in love too and you kissed me and my tears rolled down my cheeks onto your lips, onto your tongue and you looked straight into my eyes and told me you had just tasted the universe and so, suddenly, the tears became deadly serious and the scene, fragile beauty reincarnated, and we were perfect again, drinking long and deep of the universe.
The Photograph illustrating this part of the “Space Junk” series of stories was taken by the photographer, writer and philosopher Mr P. Iru, and is used here with his consent.
