Equations: Dialectic Form (2021)

#20
But there are times (not too many) when godliness arrives with a certain
cleanliness. They usually aren’t next to each other. When I make love to
Jena, our bodies actually exude love; there are times when I feel so raw
that I seem to have been dropped in an ocean of hunger. But it is hunger
only for Jena and no one else, and when we wade into the ocean together
it is to breathe. Glamorous circumstances are unnecessary, it is still dorm
rooms, mine and hers, but we bring in so much ocean that glamour
happens the second we touch. The godliness is in the cleanliness of our
equations— she simply wants me and vice versa. I release my streams into
her, noting how strange it feels to do this inside someone. Innocence is a
miracle that neither of us yet appreciate. What’s most innocent is the fact
that we both like doing this— others would later teach me that many
enjoy the drama and the intensity of situations around sex but not the act
itself. Jena, in her unselfconsciousness, lets her body go and floats
downward into the interstices of consciousness. She does by instinct what
men do by force. I watch her face with a kind of wonder— its subtle
shifts, slight changes, abrupt mouth movements. We become objects of
envy; people want to take what we have. But I’m lost in Jena and the
season and its illusions of permanence. What godliness is, is whatever is
good, and stays. These memories remain; yet humanity is born of humility
(I have sinned, I dwell in imperfection). If, now, the only way out is
words, so be it.
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