Finish showering, dry in a Life is Good beach towel I got while walking about, smooth jazz plays, Wayne Shorters Speak No Evil album. In my checkered blue Oxford, pale yellow chinos, blue havaianas. So chill, outside they grill, in the shower, I imagined Samuel reading (Yes, I read them all, and, no, dear, I am not that person I became back then, with that medium and under those insane circumstances, I am sorry.), saying to himself with disgust, He didnt know my grandfather. No, I did not, but we make up what we do not know, and that, my dear, is precisely what you did projecting the angry womans suggestions about people like him onto me. You would like me a lot more if you read me with a bit more of a critical eye. Oh man, this piano riff is awesome, white curtains billow towards the formal dining table, my laptop at the same position as DArcys iPad was last summer in the dining room in Kensington. There are many places now, and this space. From the moment I met you Samuel, your head has, literally, been tilted down towards a screen -- that is how I first saw you beneath the old clock tower and how I saw you in Felicias last summer -- no face, much as you averted your gaze leaving our Brooklyn burrow, saying you loved me, but I knew, when your eyes darted, that all was lost. The two straight guys start imitating cockney accents, Is thah eeny chease over theer? (141,741 readers)
Posted on: Sun, 06 Jul 2014 23:06:52 +0000
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