the visibility of the ricardos

the space between two women is hell, unless it is filled with violence, in which it is heaven. the space between your lips and mine can be quantified by measuring distance, mass, the evil thing growing inside of me that wants to consume your body like a forest fire. when a woman loves a woman, it is always a violent act, a cruelty, a sin, and when a woman loves a man, it is always the space between lucy and ricky ricardo’s beds. i am jealous of that holy space because it is filmed, because everyone can see the room they left for the firmament, whereas every moment of my life is spent with fingers twitching, hands reaching, down boy, bad dog, and what do i have to show for it?