i was outside, hungry wet, losing weight, drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes, reading and writing every where, spending a dollar or two a day, living in a park and the Shaw was a big warm building no one was using.
Mona knew where the performers dressing room was, upstairs beside hall A. We went and the door was open. There were soft couches and mirrors everywhere. A shower and pushing and pulling Mona into crazy positions and she was reluctant and I was an animal, digging and probing.
She screamed that's my asshole and i didn't care. She soothed me with words, "if that's what you want you can have it." And she guided me in as she stood pushing into thinness, her eyes dark love, mine blue wild, her face scrunched and mine screaming into a warmth that knew no coldness, serene and dangerous, flashes shooting
the room slowed and the walls forgot nothing...it was as if we were never there and yet we were there...her ragged and holding, me like wise but not..doing what needed to be done...
Doubt never entered then but later in the tent when she showed me the rip in her asshole i thought badly...though it was only unusual in terms of being in the stars dressing room.
i remember the shower hot on my back and the towels we used were rags...
our screams of rage were every bodies.
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