15:43 conductor
The Other Man (who is really just a boy) says he misses me. The Other Man writes, "I had grown found of you." The Other Man can't spell. He has body odor and mouth odor and his mustache gets in my nose when I kiss him, and he smokes too much and is in love with someone else anyway. This is what happens when you decide to fill the cold spot in your bed with the least harmless of suitors.
Still, the sight of him dancing in the passenger seat, wearing overalls with a tiny train safety-pinned to the bib, grinning at me: "shake your ass! you never shake your ass" - or the way the water clings to his eyelashes and he opens his eyes bright green with a surprised look, the look of surprise he gets sometimes to see me. Or that last night, not a date, but the first night together with no interruptions -
Well, it was pleasant. I was growing found of it too.
today I saw
tif's lovely face
3 Comments:
At 4:36 PM,
Radiohumper said…
I no longer think you are a witch.
We are one, and that's all there is.
I found an old letter in my demolished kitchen from a lameduck like you describe. I just took it out to read it when I decided to read Ogma instead.
Here it is -
I'm really fond of you,
he said.
I don't like fond.
It sounds like something
you would tell a dog.
Give me love,
or nothing.
Throw your fond in a pond,
I said.
But what I felt for him
was also warm, frisky,
moist-mouthed,
eager,
and could swim away
if forced to do so.
At 5:03 PM,
ogma said…
oh lord.
we are both witches. but in a good way.
At 8:30 PM,
Herself said…
:) you are the lovely one my darling
Post a Comment
<< Home