The sun is a halo that’s a will-o’-the-wisp that’s a smile that grows and widens like something you know but won’t tell because you like playing hard to get. There’s a cigarette with my name on it, but you won’t roll it because you’re too busy giving those eyes. You know the ones. Bigger than planets or those big marbles we used to trade in junior school or the buttons our grandmothers would keep in old biscuit tins that once contained chocolatey treats but not anymore. I could be sensible but I’d rather not. Could be a gentleman but if you won’t be a lady then why should I? Sitting on the bed, you spread your legs and slide down your undies and when I glimpse what you are it reminds me of the moment Bob Hoskins returns to Toon Town in Who Framed Roger Rabbit. Those lucid colours. That sense of yummy madness that can’t be resisted. Did I just use the word yummy? Seems like I did. I’m getting old. I’m losing my mind in the search for a truth I’ve known has been hiding since the days of my childhood. I’m not sure what it will reveal to me, or what I will even be able to do with the nature of its meaning, but as you sit there slipping in your fingers, I know it will make me shake. Did I ever tell you about that dream I had where I woke in the night as a six your old to kiss a woman’s face that emerged from the pages of a book? Did I tell you what I did the first time I saw a photograph of you showing a bit of flesh? If you must know, I went into the woods and masturbated beneath the moon as the animals came out and circled me as I stood there pointing to the sky. Just flesh, and yet so much more. Just organic chaos, and yet something closer to God than anyone would ever think. As I gaze inside of you, there are more animals. They look like the ones from Farthing Wood. Y’know? That TV show we used to watch as kids. They’re waving at me with their animal paws, calling for me to come join them in a place both real and unreal in the same breath.