nayagua

closing her eyes
touching ever so gently…
attempting to bring himself
into her image,
into his body as she moves
her hand with him…
but nothing happens.
Something is not working…
not bringing it off.
He places the dark plastic case
into a black box
and she begins again…
this time much better.
Images flickering…
Her hand moving faster…
Her fingers caressing
Himself as he feels her
Excitement… coinciding
With the predigested electric
Images of the deathly black box.
Ah… ah… ah… petite mort
Of that most dangerous supplement.
The hand rests, the fingers flex.
Someday he won´t be able
To this anymore
Without the aid of
A magic box before him,
As Thamus had already predicted.
Oh, my sweetest, lovely Dulcinea
I see you coldly replaced
By so external projections.
And there begins the tragedy
Of the simulacra as the real.
Ojo!: un altro film senza speranza.
Coda:
Nine times the heaven of the light had revolved in its own movement since my
birth and had almost returned to the same point when the woman whom my mind
beholds in glory first appeared before my eyes.
La Vita Nuova
Dante Alighieri
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