hello veil over a trench coat, i’ve come here to recite a few breaths and hopefully get you to take those sunglasses off (for my pride’s sake). just drop them around your ankles like your most comfortable pair of undergarments, kick them onto the beige bedroom rug and make me feel like a day early welfare check in a bread line full of starvation. slide me a napkin with a phone number from across the church pew. smoke my mind like a cigarette in the recovery ward waiting room. i bet you could slap the what teh **** off my face as swiftly as the day is long,
and it’s long.
and as teh world economy comes to a screeching halt and married men jump out of windows because money is some sort of commodity i will never truly truly truly understand, crying babies and ****** good womens remind me of you. grandmothers and the aunt everyone loves to hear drunk at christmas is your smile. your scent isn’t like my ****** relatives. that would be gross. and luxury automobiles and the adromeda galaxies in one corner of the paint job you happened to look a little too closely at is just a speck of your complexity misdialed like a phone number in a crosseye white pages disaster-
say i was to rush to this decision.
say i bent, hands on knees, puffing.
say joe camel between my pointer and middle finger kept both of them occupied for once
say i was running up to tell you that i don’t know you
but i think i should
i should