I
remember the first time i came across John’s notebook. We had met only a couple
times before and we’re turning into something more than a one night stand. We
had finished with each other and he had fallen asleep the way men always do
right after sex with nothing more than a moonbeam as a blanket. I went to the
table to have a smoke and noticed the notebook I had seen him scribbling in
when I would first wake up in the mornings. I flicked on the dim light and
opened it. I had meet John at a poetry reading and liked the love poems of his
he’d read, but as I started to read his notebook I couldn’t even register what
I was reading. Was this a diary? Were these things true? Was this a story? As I
started to understand these were just vignettes I read every page with a little
better handle on what was otherwise nonsense. I got to the last page, ground
out my second cigarette, found my clothes and left without looking over my
shoulder. We bumped into each other a month later at Quick Quality Coffee. It
was awkward and embarrassing and little was said. Six months after that I saw
his name on a book in a bargain rack. I opened it and realized it was the same
writings that had been in that notebook from that moonlit midnight when I sat
naked at his table with a packet of Kools. I put the book back on the rack went
home and started dinner for my new boyfriend who was watching Monday Night
Football exclaiming how great my ass looked in my new jeans. I smiled,
straightened his boat trader magazines and knew I would ride him hard that night
while wearing my pink night shirt that says, “Diamonds are a girl’s best
friend”.
***
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