actually
on a real date
AIKA
suggested we slow
since
i did the fear disappear
and
do the whole courtship thing
she
has on one of those black party dresses
i
put on the one button down shirt i own
we’ve
moved from the fine dining area
to
the lounge
where
there is dancing
her
arms are around my neck
mine
around her waist
swaying
without moving our feet
this
is so much different
then
getting drunk and diving in
song
ends and we move to the bar
for
my first drink of the night
“what
do you do for work?”
it
hits me
she
doesn’t know about my poetry
how
i’ve already immortalized her with words
my
novels
the
royalties
the
completed un-submitted manuscripts
laying
about my place
i
no longer care about
yesterday’s
words
i
want to tell her i own stock in whiskey
and
collect their dividends every night
“i
write”
“like
what?”
“stuff
no one wants to read”
her
eyes can be so expressive
and
right now they are not pleased
“your
avoidance tactics really suck
so
knock it off and start talking”
“can
we do this over cigarettes?”
she
grabs her purse
and
like a verse perfected
in
the purity of true expression
we
find the dumpster area
where
the employees go to smoke
i
tell her to go to her phone
google
“the dark streets of decay”
light
my smoke, move a little away
so
she can
while
i stare at the street
and
the incessant traffic of l.a.
after
a few sips of my flask
and
a couple of cigarettes
i
feel her hand infect my own
and
she leads me back to the lounge
another
slow song
her
arms go around my neck
her
breasts pressing against
my
upper abdomen
are
very distracting
i
encircle her waist
and
we sway
in
a moment without haste
***
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