Friday night on the Island

I call, “House to half,” but Nature is an unreliable board op.  Chloe and the others are sitting on the deck.  I enter and cue Cindy.  It’s not quite dark enough for the Christmas light corset to have its full effect, but it doesn’t matter.  Chloe knows the language of lights and that a barely perceptible twist of the wrist translates to a pin-spot on the copper high heels.  Chloe gets my focus, even though the sun has masked my cues in a general wash.

I wear the pants and strap on a footlight.  I fall asleep, dreaming of Jose.  I flirt with a bare bulb; (fuck the actors.)

Shh.  Stop.  Stop.

All I wanted was to be good, to do everything in truth.

The wine keeps flowing and we join the group that has gathered to watch the sunset.  Chloe applauds the slow fade and the choice of color.  Back at the deck, we wolf down our steak and hunt around for anything else we can find to sop up more herb butter and spice rub.  The empty wine bottles line up at the door.

We stumble to the beach to watch shooting stars.  It’s late now and the lighting is perfect.  Actually.

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1 Response to Friday night on the Island

  1. chloe says:

    i don’t have any words, actually. ok maybe a few. so touched, so grateful, so me, so you. and though it was perfect, i’ve already expressed a desire for an encore performance with the proper lighting…

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