Based on "A Dialogue between the Soul and Body" by Andrew MarvellSOUL: Oh, who can from this bear releaseA flowered soul who knows no peace?This meaty hand, this bulging arm,This weedy face which knows no charm,This hairy foot, this eye that leers,This mottled nose, protruding ears:A prison grown large to restrainThis sweet and simple, gentle brainWhich longs with every coarse heartbeatSurroundings dainty and petite.BODY: Who says that I'm some jail. After she turns off the light, I caress them, kiss them and lick and gently suck her small nipples. After a while my eyes have adjusted to the dark and I take a quick scan of the room. There is a poster on the wall which appears to be of a man with grey hair and I ask, “Is that a picture of the Pope?” She laughs and replies, “No you idiot, that’s David Bowie!”I get us a drink of water from the kitchen and as I rejoin her on the bed, I confess to her that I am a virgin. She says, “I am too, so. He had given up fighting the loosingbattle of keeping his cigarette lit in such shitty weather; it hungforlornly from his tightly clenched lips. Monday mornings were badenough, he thought to himself, without starting the day soaked to theskin.Jake, his local news-stand guy, called out a greeting and Jimacknowledged him. Jim rounded the corner of the block into his office'sstreet and fell against the door. He rented two second floor rooms of aless than auspicious turn of the century building..Read More
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