Monday, May 16, 2005

Free Agent

He's gone for the summer. My computer's on the up and up. The sun's shining. The birds are a-chirpin'. Truckers are cursing up a storm.

Life: it's a good thing.

***

"And don't be afraid," I said with my face buried in his side, "to write to loose ends."

We swayed aimlessly around the foyer as he tied up the rest. I wanted so bad to feel his tongue in me when he untangled himself from well-wishers to reach me -- seize me -- before I quietly slipped out the door. Yet, I didn't; I was repulsed. He drained every last ounce of strength from me and thus, I had no more left to give.

It wouldn't surprise me if I found an Urban Outfitters's T-shirt that read: "I went to Tulsa and all I got was this lousy friend-boy whom I fooled around with and grew too attached to, though he never used me for sex which gives me no legitimate reason to hate the bastard even though he had a girlfriend, played my emotions like an organ grinder and freeloaded like a campus whore -- but I enjoyed every minute of my time with him."

If that's not a case for masochism, I don't know what is. And let me be heartbreakingly honest with myself. We didn't make love because he didn't love me. Words were always in the way.

***

Took my scarf with him. That's my Roman Holiday Hepburn scarf. But I snagged a sweet set of six wooden hangers in return.

***

Wanted: Loud-mouthed, teeth-sucking, big-bootied Bonita last seen heading to church wearing rubber loaves on her feet and a wristband over her ass (because a skirt, it ain't.)

Kobe Bryant called. He wants ... yo' number.

***

Went shopping for books and plunked down the pesos for Laura Penny's "Your Call is Important to Us: The Truth About Bullshit" and Marilyn Yalom's "History of the Wife".

And a Spanish dictionary.

My mind needs a good scrubbing from a winter's worth of sludge.

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