everywhere and tasted dirty sand and then watched moonlight
fall on a knife and been naked in the sand while he fucked
you, the full moon behind him, the sound of the ocean behind
him, and your wrists weighed down by lead, her knees on top
of your arms as she caressed your breasts while he fucked like
doing push-ups, but the full moon is very beautiful and the
sound of the ocean is very fine?
*
And then, alone, have you needed each other so bad that you
slept and fucked at the same time, the whole time you were
sleeping, what others call night, so close, so entangled, melted
together, wrapped around each other, sand biting your skin
rubbing in the sweat: and been at peace, happy, with time
stopped right there?
*
The narrow mattress on the painted floor is drenched through
with sweat, and the sand pricks like sharp, tiny bites, hurting,
and the room is dark and airless, and we are wound together,
sleeping as we fuck: a somnambulant intercourse: wet and hot,
55
barely on the verge of consciousness and not yet dream: the
heat turning it into delirium: for all the hours of a human
night.
*
We wash. N goes to use poor R ’s shower. She has broken the
letter of the law but will not tell. The promise was made when
N loved her. Now she doesn’t. The shower is redundant in the
wet heat but it will get rid of the sand. I stand in our kitchen,
it is dark even though sunlight blankets the earth outside the
iron bars covering the kitchen windows: I look first through
the grating over the doors and windows into the backyard to
see if the neighborhood boys are there: they stare in, bang on
the windows, bang on the doors: we try not to undress in front of
them. I fill a big pot full of water. It comes out of the tap
sweaty. I dip an old washcloth in and out of the pot and rub it
disconsolately all over. Then I do the same again, using soap,
but not too much, because you can never quite get it off. Then
I do it again with clean water. Then I am ready.
N comes back clean. She has not told, I can tell. We both
broke our promise to poor R. The beach was within the law;
the whole private night was not. I am pleased. It is never
mentioned again. Today is uptown business. The days of
uptown business are few and far between, but all the same
somehow. We are going uptown to talk with men who have
money about our film.
N dresses. She wears a silk scarf as a headband and flared
sailor pants. Her eyes are elongated and blackened and her lips
are pursed: they seem longer, thinner, as if she is sucking them
