A blind solipsist and a jazz pianist met in a suicide bomber's unruffled dream
A blind solipsist and a jazz pianist met in a suicide bomber's unruffled dream
through the dawdling dance of smoke, they sat on a fault line slope, a volatile plateau
where they sipped on a waterbong pipe, discussing literature and their respective love lives:

“I’m glad I invented Mahfouz because I was able to then tell myself in beautiful brail that he
(who is me) who is happy must be ready to give himself up”
“That was purposefully sloppy, like the slipshod string of organization masterfully kicked out by T-Monk;
what a wise wit-creator, and a dictator of soul.”
“I’m glad I invented you because I’m able to now make sense of the nonsensical with little less introspective
scolding than a gesture towards sharp musical analysis
and the aesthetic comfort of hip harping-ons.”

The jazzy musician saw that his chimney chugging comrade devoted his life to not devoting his life from the way he released his nebulous words, and started on a subject that has explosive connotations

The slip bombthreat

love

“I fumbled around with Amal clumsily, putting together a slapdash medley of cool cadences, what came crashing down when I realized that this was a meticulous concerto and that I missed the memo.”
Several blank blinks later…
“What a sweet melody, Esperanza;
I only knew she existed while we made love, for those few explosive emotional seconds of climax
and orgasmic fury.”

The fault line rumbled and the two saw nothing more or less proper than to break out in a round of bare-knuckle boxing;
clenched fist slaps and flung flapping elbow swings smashing into each others faces,
grinding the tender inside of their red cheeks into the jagged-rock ivory of their piercing teeth.
Blood and pounded nerves calmed the two skin-wrapped souls while menacing smolders turned their world into rubble, pipes and stones, thyme, olive oil and twisted metal
dreams smattered against the gritty asphalt piles that the earthquake coughed into a flaccid chaos on the weeping soil.

Amal Esperanza woke up on the fault line and arose, patiently awaiting the next earthquake induced by the push of a button.