Wednesday, April 25, 2007

Forest for the trees, back in County Greenbo

I remember the first girl I ever kissed made the air smell like a melting Kit Kat. We were outside in the driveway while the adults sat and drank and drowned in loquacious posturing inside the house. I remember they'd left the porch light on. I remember they'd left the front door open but the screen door was closed. And I remember t'was the kissing hour and the sky blushed as the sun sank behind the soft haze mound of the horizon and pretended not to watch us as we clambered into the speedboat that sat on a trailer parked in the drive. Behind the house was a drive-in and we laughed and throttled our way toward the adventures beyond the fence and far away, deep into the celluloid fantastic. I don't remember her name, I don't remember what she looked like but I remember taking off her red sweater, unwrapping her and gently pushing apart her trembling limbs and I remember how she breathed and the sound of her lips opening and the whole world turning chocolate and expectation and dizziness.


Conversation from last month that is in me today for unknown reasons:

Hey guys.



You know, hic, what?

No, I don't what?

If you weren't such a shit fucking sweetheart, more people would like you.

Yeah, sure, thanks for the tip. I'll keep that in mind. Good to see you. I guess I'll go now.


Every morning nowadays, I wake up happy and clearheaded.
I don't need anything else.
And knocking down walls between those closest to you isn't a chore.
It's a tender objective.

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