I think if Solange returned my calls and heard what I had to say, she would agree that the following scenes from Richard Siken’s Crush are uniquely suited to her artistic voice. In fact, we could EGOT together if she allowed me to direct her next music video based on any of the following fragments. Please close your eyes and imagine Solange in futuristic, experimental renditions of the following scenes.
but a Holiday Inn,
with bougainvillea growing through the chain link by the pool.
The door swung wide: twin beds, twin lamps, twin plastic cups
wrapped up in cellophane.
An all-night barbeque. A dance on the courthouse lawn.
The radio aches a little tune that tells the story of what the night
There were some nice parts, sure, all lemondrop and mellonball, laughing in silk pajamas and the grain of sugar on the toast, love love or whatever, take a number
You were drinking sangria and I was throwing oranges at you,
but it didn’t matter.
I said my arms are very long and your head’s on fire.
Still wet, I lay down next to you. Your arms, your legs, your naked chest,
your ribs delineated like a junkyard dogs.
You were lying in the middle of the empty highway.
The sky was red and the sand was red and you were wearing a brown coat.
It spins like a wheel inside you: green yellow, green blue,
green beautiful green.
It’s simple: it isn’t over, it’s just begun. It’s green. It’s still green.
to focus on. Leave me blurry and fall toward me
with your entire body. Lie under the covers, pretending
to sleep, while I’m in the other room
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