she came over tonight with kfc and mrs fields cookies. the plan was for us to see tsar play tonight with karisa and her man.
the details dont matter. all you should know is that for a while she sat on one side of the couch as i ate and watched bill maher and for a while she slept right on top of me as i fell asleep to the reinactment of the michael jackson trial.
the trial that should have never made it to the pajama pants day since the sister of the accuser and the brother have now both admitted to have lied under oath.
her cell phone has a little alarm on it that she set for 1am incase we slept for too long because we knew we probably would because we knew we probably would never be together like that ever again. since all that sweetness is apparently troublesome later when broken hearts try to heal.
me, i dont believe in such things. i believe that one hour of goodness should have the same weight as one hour of sadness. therefore rack up the good as long as its there.
so i looked at her sleep. i looked at her wake. so pretty. even with cried-off makeup. i looked at her stand on my couch as i hugged her and i said all the nice things that nice boys always say
i said you’ll be back tomorrow and we’ll make sweet love
sunday we’ll have anal
and when i come back from texas i’ll tie you up real good.
then i gave her an autographed copy of charles bukowskis women
which i autographed for him
in front of her.
best piece i never got
four am is when she drove off cracking open a chilled frappuchino
her mommas gonna kill her
so i said just yell at her
we’re broken up are you happy
and slam the door.
and dont tell her we made out all night.