| | Ivy's
theatre
Graham
exploded into the party.
Outrageous Darling
the inverse Dali, the
tweed jodhpurs, breeches, whatever.
Eton outrageous.
Gray
snubbed me.
Fuck. Then
Ivy entered.
She whirled upon us with a face and presence
like Miles' "Bitch's
Brew".
She was outlandishly beautiful
or a weirdly funny black Diva
princess.
She spun around the room with Graham.
They celebrated, outrageously. Passing
me on the way to the kitchen Ivy enthused,
"That Graham sure whirls fantastic!"
"I
guess there are few," I said,
"who can share a stage with you."
She
gave me a withering look.
"Do you live in fear?" she intoned.
"I
do," I confessed.
She rose as before corruption,
rose to vanquish,
as before the Devil,
them preacher's fingers rapping down.
"We hate
fear!" she declaimed.
"We hate fear!"
Then she turned to
consult Kim,
who was passing,
and came back confirmed:
"We hate
fear." Later
we danced.
Later she circled;
circled
zombie-like
looking for her gloves,
looking for her friend,
looking for
the door,
Later she never
answered my call.
| |
