pre - lonely - post

Stars open among the lilies.
Are you not blinded by such expressionless sirens?
This is the silence of astounded souls.

__________Syliva Plath






blondie, on matadora.



the guys i'm standing next to are idiot wallflowers. i see her walking past again. last time, i held the door open for her and i thought maybe that was that look, i don't know so hey, tell me about your tshirt she looks back at me, smiles, and we begin. i laugh and think to myself, i'm soo glad you're someone i don't know. she says i broke up with my boyfriend yesterday. i realize what this is. i know her type too, 50% romance, 50% adventure. so we talk about Los Angeles. Paris. Istanbul. her eyes are a little blurry, must be the alcohol. i sip at my cranberry juice and it bites at the back of my throat and makes it a little hard for me to talk. she takes my hand and leads me away towards the door where do you live? she's skipping first, second and third. i haven't had time to look at her yet. she has red hair. i like red hair. i like her tshirt, afterall that's what got me into this mess. i stare at her face while i talk trying to find a glimmer of it... chemistry, or affection, love... a click... all i see are her watery drunk eyes, i just don't want to be at home i say to myself. i'm only out because i wanted a distraction. now we're by the front door, she leading by the hand, me playing the part. Courtney, you got my keys? Courtney looks at me hello person who has Annie's keys. she rummages through her purse, looks at me oddly again, (soo awkward, i try and make small talk about Missouri... no one's fooled) she hands the keys over. i'm led by the hand outside where Annie stops to speak to a few people.

i'm left alone a moment. i think of everyone who... and... what about... and i look at her back, and think about how skin is something sacred... how it has a magnetic field and how touching it should not feel like bulbous masses of flesh but like stardust and fields of tulips... i look at her red-hair and think what's wrong with me. why i feel like i'm falling over inside myself. she looks back and a hand out (wait up wait up), yes yes. i know i know. i try and imagine her body naked. and my lips and hands... and hers and... i turn around, where my friends don't understand why i'm standing alone in the carpark. in my head some blues anthem starts playing. all man and guitar. i just needed a hug tonight i say to myself. and i wonder if maybe she'll hug me after. she looks back at me. it's in the eyes. watery, red eyes.

a friend calls me over, and i oblige. you look sad tonight she says. and i look at her sadly. then i turn around. Annie's talking to random-other-guy. i'm going to be sadder in a little while. and nod in little jerky motions. what?
who are we?
what?
what _ the _who _ fu^& are we?
what are you talking about?
i gotta go.

and i drive back and my groin feels a little self-conscious. and my hands grip the plastic, and i imagine nothing would have been different about that. i feel soo lonely and wonder if it would have been worse if i was touching some other plastic skin.