slowly out and glittered on the tip of his cock. There was a soft knock at the door. He got up off the crumpled bed and opened the door. The girl's brother stood there smiling. The red haired boy made a slight choking sound as blood rushed to his face pounded and sang in his ears. The young face there on the landing turned black around the edges. The red haired boy sagged against the door jamb. He came to on the bed the Mexican kid standing over him.
'All right now? Sis can't come.'
The Mexican kid unbuttoned his shirt. He kicked off his sandals dropped his pants and shorts grinning and his cock flipped out half up. The Mexican kid brought his finger up in three jerks and his cock came up with it nuts tight pubic hairs glistening black he sat down on the bed.
'Vaseline?'
The red haired boy pointed to the night table. He was lying on the bed breathing deeply his knees up. The Mexican kid took a jar of vaseline out of a drawer. He kneeled on the bed and put his hands behind the freckled knees and shoved the boy's knees up to his trembling red ears. He rubbed vaseline on the pink rectum with a slow circular pull. The red haired boy gasped and his rectum spread open. The Mexican kid slid his cock in. The two boys locked together breathing in each other's lungs. After the girl left I walk down to Marty's where I meet this Johnson has a disgruntled former chauffeur map indicates where a diamond necklace waits for me wall safe behind the Blue Period. Or maybe you Picasso on Rembrandt and cool off like I was sitting in a Turner sunset on the Japanese girl doing my simple artisan job hot and heavy. Mary she kept the guide ready her eyes heavy and cold as a cop's come around with the old birds and bees business. Nobody thought about that cold outside agent call. Recall John Citizen came up on her. Johnny Law just happens by magic shop in Westbourne Grove. Smell these conditions of ash? I twig that old knack. Klinker is dead.
Blackout fell on these foreign suburbs here.
'Be careful of the old man. kinda special deputy carries a gun in the car.'
Music fading in the East St. Louis night broken junk of exploded star sad servant of the inland side shirt flapping in a wind across the golf course a black silver sky of broken film precarious streets of yesterday back from shadows the boy solid now I could touch almost you know both of us use the copper luster basin in the blue attic room now Johnny's back. Who else put a slow cold hand on your shoulder shirt flapping shadows on a wall long ago fading streets a distant sky?
They walked through a city of black and white movies fading streets of thousand-run smoke faces, figures of the world slow down to catatonic limestone.
City blocks speed up out in photo flash. Hotel lobbies 1920 time fill with slow grey film fallout and funeral urns of Hollywood. Never learn? The guide clicked him through a silent turnstile into a cubicle of blue glass and mirrors so that any panel of the room was at alternate intervals synchronized with the client's sex-pulse mirror or wall of glass into the next cell on all sides and the arrangement was an elaborate permutation and very technical. . . So Johnny the Guide said: 'The first clause in our blue contract is known as the examination to which both parties must submit. . .
We call it the probing period, now isn't that cute?'
The guide put on helmet of photo goggles and antennae of orange neon flickering, smelling bat wings: 'Johnny pants down. Johnny cock hard.' He brought his arm up from the elbow swimming in for close-ups of Johnny's erection: take slow and take fast under flickering vowel colors: I red/U
green/E white/O blue/A black/'Bend over Johnny.' The examiner floats up from the floor, swims down through heavy water from the ceiling, shoots up from toilet bowl, English baths, underwater takes of genitals and pubic hairs in warm spermy water. The goggles lick over his body phosphorescent moths, through rectal hairs orange halos flicker around his penis. In his sleep, naked Panama nights, the camera pulsing in blue silence and ozone smells, sometimes the cubicle open out on all sides into purple space. X-ray photos of viscera and fecal movements, his body a transparent blue fish.
'So that's the examination we call it, sees all your processes. You can't deceive us in any way at all and now you got the right to examine me.'
Lee put on the photo goggles melt in head and saw the guide now blond with brown eyes slender and tilted forward. He moved in for a close-up of the boy's flank and took his shirt off followed the pants down, circled the pubic hair forest in slow autogyros, zeroed in for the first stirrings of tumescence, swooping from the stiffening blood tube to the boy's face, sucking eyes with neon proboscis, licking testicles and rectum. The goggles and antennae fade in smoke and slow street-eyes swim up from grey dust and funeral urns, and in his sleep naked blue movies slow motion.
Pulsing blue silence photos genitals and pubic hairs in rectal mucus and carbolic soap. Alternate mirror and screen guide put on goggles walked through grey-filled shadows that melted in his head.
In time focus the natives, like flickering bat wings over faded thousand-run faces, hearing, smelling through them like: 'Johnny cock hard.' Slowdown to statues with catatonic erection slow falling through colors red green black. A hot spread: cheeks close-up. And felt over Johnny's body the slow float down from Hollywood, came to the hot Panama nights. They clicked in through a squat toilet with walls of blue glass and underwater shots of warm soapy spermy water smell, so felt the boy neon fingers on sex spots breathing through sponge rock penis-flesh and brown intestine jungles lined with flesh-eating vines and frantic parasites of the area. . .
Naked in the Panama night, rectal mucus and carbolic soap. A blue screen guide put on goggles.
Pale panels of shadow melted his head on all sides into blue silent wings over the clock of fecal movement smelling through them like transparent.
'A hot spread examination we call it. Johnny's body can't deceive us in any way. Came to the hot Panama nights to examine me.'
Clicked into his head of blue glass. Close-up neon finger over the scar-impressions learning the instrument panels, recording on the transparent flesh of present time. It is happening right now.
Slow 1920 finger rubbing vaseline on the cobra lamps, flickering movie shadows into the blue void, pulling finger rolls a cuneiform cylinder. Lens eye drank the boy's jissom in yellow light.
'Now Meester we flick fluck I me you cut.' The two film tracks ran through impression screen, one track flash on other cut out in dark until cut back: 'Me finish Johnny's shit. . . Clom through Johnny. . .' Hear rectums merging in flicks and orgasm of mutual processes, and pulsed in and out of each other's body on slow gills of sleep in the naked Panama nights and bent over the washstand in East St. Louis junk-sick dawn, smell of carbolic soap and rectal mucus and train whistle wake of blue silence and piss through my cock 'I-you-me-fuck-up-ass-all-same-time-four- eyes.' phantom cleavage crude and rampant. Every citizen can now grow sex forms in his bidet: in the night of
