April 2008
28 posts
The artschool girl attached 100 black balloons on her dress then bathed in the sun to heat the rubber and helium and lift her nervous frame.
Our umbrella clashing against foot commuters, we strolled down the street and reminisced. ‘You’re not so full of hot air anymore,’ she said.
I woke to his familiar landscape. The crests & valleys of his flesh, the freckles-all still there. ‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Hey.’ And we made love.
‘Rent a room yet?’ We ignore him, knowing full well he’ll go away. ‘Sorry thought you were someone else,’ & left our occupied bathroom.
My allergies are a bane to my wallet as I shop-spreed Kleenex & Loratadine to plug the nasal drip and gelato & new shoes to satiate my mood.
We reached the bridge when the old man behind me leaned in and whispered, ‘Yes. That trail of liquid flowing between your feet? It’s mine.’
I sat down next to my soul mate today-mid 20s, that fresh from the gym smell, reading Nabokov by the dozen. Flipping pages, we touched skin.
The old lady told her friend about her rash, hiding her womanly parts in another language. The big guy spoke of cats. I’m wedged between.
The confused guards in LaGuardia restrained me while I shouted to my mom in Indonesian. ‘Take off your shoes and don’t forget your EpiPen!’
The Sunday Yuppie cracked a smile only to one of my nephew’s knock knock jokes. ‘Peanut Butter who?’ he asked. ‘Peanut butter jelly time!’
Their friendship ended today when the girl in the black dress was tired of walking to the bar to meet up and circled the block instead.
Somewhere in Philly I pooped out a spiral Wim Delvoye would be proud of. My first instinct was to rush out the bathroom & share the beauty.
My roommates’ birthdays coincide, meaning I had to watch Chuck Norris animated in Karate Komandos while drumming to punk songs on Rock Band.
Frank’s finishes a haircut faster than you can with the playboy they give you. They shave with a straight blade. Just. Don’t. Twitch.
I dropped a quarter on a pizza pie, but the part I regret the most was when I said, ‘Shoot.’ The teenagers had a field day. I got bad pizza.
1 tag
They picked me for a tour guide since I spoke their language, but preempted a little too much. ‘Hi,’ I said to rumbles of impressed delight.
2 tags
I opened the carton & showed the broken egg to clerk. He said, ‘Ok, no problem,’ and replaced it with a jumbo. No longer will I buy organic.
We ate every appetizer but only he tried the beets. He got out of the bathroom paled from fear of colon cancer evidenced by rosy excrements.
I made eye contact with the guy swimming next to me. We settled who should go first with a race. Side by side we tied, even in rematch.
I watched the kid cross the street on his scooter and found his mom giving me that pervert alert look so intently she didn’t notice the car.
The temperature sank along with our wine. We finished dinner outside Tartine with quivering lips, then requested dessert: tart a la mode.
‘He chatted me up for 30 minutes,’ said the lifeguard. Now on the diving board, he jumps up and down endlessly waiting for her head to turn.
Cake box in hand, he rushed as I held the door open. I let go just a moment too soon, and climbed the escalator stairs, sacred to look back.
Morning security turn to sleepy-eyed day guards. I slip by them easy to reap the leftover Friday meeting buffet, my feed for the weekend.
She stopped humming to take the call, and explained why her date ended early. ‘I think he’s a little gay,’ she said of her choirmaster.
She clicks her tongue at branches above. ‘I see you sweetie.’ Click click, in a singsong lullabye. ‘Come down.’ But even squirrels fear her.
‘You don’t like?’ She smiled, leaning on one elbow. ‘I do like.’ She smiled again, gestured she’d wrap it up, and left candy with the bill.
Cutting the fabric, she asked what I’m making. ‘A plush drumset for a rock opera on Gunter Grass.’ She handed the cloth, smiling @ my lies.