stork daddy all of the things i run to. not really the point really. how can you explain it to them who you're paying or loving or working for? 040308
werewolf he had had a garish experience in high school. at a party he had met a girl who he really felt he had connected to. they talked about their favorite tv shows, their childhood, how besides the point school often seemed. as more and more drinks were passed around, the questions became more direct, shorter answers, responses like, yeah, or totally. finally the questions and responses were the broad brushstrokes of drunken eyes, awkwardly slipping around from the eyes to the cheek to the neck to the legs of the other person. she told him she had a deepthroat fetish, and asked him if he had one as well. he never got this drunk with a girl who wasn't his friend already before. of course he said, who doesn't have a deepthroat fetish these days. they went into a backroom, and closed the halfway. light streamed in, the sounds of a kid playing some song, some chord he was apparently disatisfied with, over and over again streamed in. it seemed relatively tender for something which was terrifying to him. almost like watching yourself disemboweled while in a state of anesthesia. she went down on him, taking him all the way to the back of her throat and holding him there. he hadn't really had any fetish like that, but he did allow himself to be sensitive (who didn't these days?) and so when he said strangely confident like an actor, (like the way a kid with a gun might say "feeling lucky punk" or a mom might say "put that down honey"), "take it all" he laughed inside because he really meant he wanted complete emotional acceptance. he fucked her. he traded in his virginity a long time ago, when he was thirteen, but this was the first time he had fucked a girl. or done something that felt to him like fucking a girl. there had been no condoms, they coaxed each other away from caring. it all felt really good, it seemed so for her as well. they collapsed, they built up again, they forgot about the people outside. her eyes were like dangerous damp hallways you run through to avoid the slow suspense. he fell into them screaming. when she screamed it seemed as if they were both screaming at the same thing, at some endlessness or some dead end. he held her for a while afterwards but she shifted uncomfortably. they talked a little bit, she kept to tv shows. he asked for her number but she just said she didn't live near here. he felt as if he had armed some time bomb somewhere. he was worried he had caught some contagious recklessness, that in a moment he had been exposed to life, splayed open to it, tearing his skin away no longer huddled in it, and was now addicted, would now need more and ever more erasure. he wasn't sure to thank her or blame her. he wondered how far along she was on the road he now felt he had embarked on, he wondered how farther along he had sent her. her moans would fill his mind even years later when he had recovered his bearings, when he was back on the straight and narrow, loving moderately, earning and hoarding and spending at the right times, by some charting of the years and seasons and sun cycles and moon cycles. but he remembered those moans, how they seemed to bewitch days, jam all of your life, all judgement, all failure and success into one moon, into one night, into one almost permanent escape. 040315
In_Bloom It's washing away down the drain
Sticky sweaty running black
Wiping away Green and Blue
And Rose

And look at you now!
Soft but with sheen
So clean, baby
You're so clean and so right

*Garish who?
what's it to you?
who go