when we found him barefoot in mid-july he was standing on a four-day drunk tap-dancing in shoe-horn colored chinos rolled up to his cyclist's calves on the sun-punched hood of an '04 nissan altima with shot-out windows salt in his skin hair & eyelashes silver bubbling spittle clung at the corners of his mouth sparkling dry in the sun-heat
he laughed & said she had a mouth like a grizzly bear or cheese grater she was thin-shouldered dressed in a curtain-and-couch-cushion ensemble had yellow button callouses on her palms & lacked the instinctive manipulative prowess other girls her age possessed the whole performance only lasted 7 minutes huddled in a bedroom closet in a blathering forest of unkind giggles he still has acid flashbacks watching cutthroat kitchen because she had alton brown's teeth & tonsils like spun glass
that night he was a heathen on a mountian made of mandolin stiff yearbook spines & shoeboxes full of faded polaroid mementos he was tank-topped but still sweating as he stumbled & stood on black stilettos & soiled blue cork-soled wedges like sharp rocks dancing underfoot dodging the mothball heat-trap of cotton blend blouses & corduroy coats overhead
joy division warbled slimy through the white wooden slats of the closet's pocket door as she knelt demurely & took it between her thumb & finger brought it up to thin lips pursed above cleft chin & ****** it in like a big thick j-bird but she never exhaled the expectant white plume of smoke he said when she grabbed ***** as they swung like pendula below his navel he almost pulled out a swath of her honeynut hair his injured impatient breath cracked like thunder in the cashmere sky above her undulating head
when the mighty chasm fountain exploded she said he was the flavor of a blue sky burning her throat sounded shallow & grunty as she spat him out into a pair of her favorite aunt's imitation jimmy choo pumps & enjoyed a brief nosebleed
when it was over finally he forced a sympathetic fistful of tramadol down his saharan throat & tried to stay hidden under the tarpaulin in the moving blackness wandering alone through the waning moon's ceaseless maze behind the perfumed aphasia that kept him high biting the brittle tassel of a graduation cap like an adolescent ocelot feeling like fleeing
& when i asked him i said well these experiences probably helped you build some character right
he laughed & assured me of the isolated nature of this watercolor snapshot event & said one day david
he said maybe one day you'll learn to not measure your self worth against the traumatic mouth mistakes your pants have made