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2001-09-20 || 9:13 a.m. || leaving the iron on || you have got your hand on my hip like it's been there for a hundred years. like it's holding on to the same person it held three months ago. i am making sure there are no blankets in the way to interrupt this. i want to turn off the fan and make you stop talking just so that i can listen to the electricity surging from your hand into me, the crackly dis/replacement of ions and negative charges. i don't think you notice. but you will have dreams of leaving the iron on and will wake up to the distinct smell of burning. guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |