Self-Portrait as a Sarlacc

James Bowden and Eve Blank

The door is lighter than expected. I think, I must be going soon, but it stops raining.
Perhaps I can stay awhile. Things quickly go from slow to fast. Your chin on my shoulder,
now my fingers traipse your stomach. I’ve always thought that being wine-drunk has a bit
of a different quality to it, though only when I’m not blacked barfing my bed burgundy.
Sorry, was that too serious, I didn’t mean to kill the mood. Fear not, young padawan:
nothing can kill a hunger this yawning. Not even the first part of a Netflix docu-series
on Mormons, a senile man with 30 wives and acquiring younger ones all the time.
Not even Twilight.

Trust me: the first time I made love to this girl, we’d just finished watching Inception
plus a creepy Black Mirror episode it reminded her of. The guy died. At least in the former
you get a Schrodinger’s Leo Dicaprio of sorts, not just skull full of mush. We were getting
all existentialist, no, more nihilist but scared of the dark, well, uh, I know the last four hours
have been anything but aphrodisiac, but well, we’re sitting on my bed and I’m quite attracted to you.
We fucked each other’s brains out. We had the most awkward sex of my life, don’t get me wrong it was good,
what do you want to do next?, *giggle*, I don’t know, have sex with you, *giggle* *turns away*, you get the point,
for 30 minutes I was incapable of doubting the authenticity of this world,
all nails sweaty skin tongue teeth and poorly stifled laughter.

I still remember the distinct shape of her body. It’s been thousands of years.
Most days, I’m waiting to fall backward into reality again. Non, je ne regrette rien never plays.
You give me nothing but a nasty case of acid reflux.

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Another in our collaborative poetry series! This takes from the sarlacc in Star Wars, as well as the movie Inception in both its concept, the “kick” scene and the track that signals it, Non, je ne regrette rien. A good name for a song too in both that and this context.