KIWIS (AND COLETTE) 1996

When you spoke of kiwis, the hair on your arm would rise up into the air.

Why do you speak of kiwis? You know that I do not like them.

I have never eaten a kiwi, but presently I am drinking kiwi juice. Oh.

Perhaps that is why you are speaking of kiwis.

The hair on your arm is dark and kind of scary.

I am reminded of Colette, whose velvet paws had real claws, according to Cocteau.

Oh! There you go again! Another comment regarding kiwis!

I am reminded again of Colette, who died in bed, overlooking the garden of the Palais Royal.

Surely, in the interim, you have not said something more about kiwis.

Perhaps it would be best if I walked outside to take the air, or had a smoke in the garden, just until the hair on your arm rested.

“Am I going out for a kiwi?” you ask. “Be still!” I say. No; absolutely not.

I will stay here, and keep you company.

Why? Because I love you. And when I consume you, as I do, I do so carefully, as one would a fresh, iced, fleshy fruit.

Why? You ask. I am reminded of Colette once more, and the gray truffle country of Puisage, which produces a truffle of extraordinary fragrance yet without a discernible taste.

No! A truffle! A kiwi has taste; as do you.

I could watch you sleep, if necessary or as need be, or speak, as I do, at times like this.

The hair on your arm, etc...

and then, interrupting, you query:

“Consumption?”

It is not out of anger or vengeance, it is simply the way to have as much as I can of you, and I mean it lovingly, and without strangeness or peculiarities; and yet...

I see fear in your eyes--as green and beautiful--à ras de terre--as Colette herself; that’s damn beautiful / the hour is late.

I must leave now. It is a short walk down the boulevard to a fruit stand, and it is a beautiful walk, even in the rain.

I shall find a special treat for you and I shall be back.

Oh yes, and a smoke as well.

I don’t mind when it rains. Please keep talking.

I’ll be back.

And, in going, I am reminded of Ravel;

Colette loved him, too.


all artwork, including monsters but not old timey photographs,
® mr. crispy flotilla, 2007