writing flicked

trying to click back to my

window to see if

he (you might remember)

him )

is saying little yellow

persons leap over

corporate logos and into the future...

my lips passed briefly for a time

of post-marlboro wishes

be coming realität.

i hate marlboros but on you

they

seem to fit.

and the smell of my herbal essence

in the bathtub that

evening reminded me

to your henna staind hair

as black as balmy bitten

bissled blog of blood

and broken shards of glowsticks

presented by grandmothers

to light the way to the truth

of my mothers origin.

i sai d i liked your bangs

and the way i reflected

in the beatle blackness

of your hair

metallic and goddesslike

and tossed

qwuite tossd and

im not even sure (still

how long it is..

and so your mother stepped

out (she always reminded

me of my grandmother

the one with the glowstick passed

i dreamt of her with my great grandmother,

passed, and we were passing time

with your mother waiting for her

to leave (or at least i was waiting

for some thing to happen

and then i sort of lost track of time

and driffted back in time

to a lost and dreamlike time

when your hair and cheeks

were redder and i always knew

this moment would come

though i always doubted it would come.

but it wasnt those days

and i wasnt the gentleman you

remembered and you said

it would taint you if we continued

but your hands—adorable and angelic

succor to my lips when your lips

grew bashful

afraid i would make you a cmplete harlot

for i wouldnt be the first of her men

you had been with.

and the awkwardness and the see you later

and the sort of pathetic followup call

and i guess

i guess ill see you later?

more of a question than a

moment wrapped in poignancy or

drowned in cognac

or any number of combinations

of random acts of humanity.

but i guess you didnt see it that way

i guess you havent heard

that im waiting patiently

to make you my third.