(  just click your heels together three times……)

As we held hands on the train he said to me that there really isn’t that much to him. I watched our long bass mauling fingers make out under the worst lighting known to mankind ,added up the numbers of the carriage and begged to differ. I told him that he hides in plain sight. That there is a bruise around him, like a shroud.

This is not an unappealing quality.

“It takes one to know one “ I sighed and rested my head on his shoulder,the coarse wool of his plaid jacket scratching my cheek and watched the pulse beat in his neck.

I like watching him walk away. The length of him striding up the platform halfway between my house and his. He see’s me halfway home and it touches me that he cares enough to do that. The journey is too short.

I wonder when I am going to see you again. If you wonder the same about me.

( the great and powerful oz…)

I don’t want to scare you away. You are cool with me and for that reason amongst innumerable others I want more. Greedy for you. Time. I want time with you away from everything and everyone but I don’t know how to ask for the pleasure of your company without cramping your style ( the cowardly lion….)

There are songs that make me tingle because they remind me of you.

Teenaged Heart. Poison Heart. Saint Dee-Dee. I know that you would understand…..

If this was a journal entry it would be written in pink glitter pen and yes,there is a high probability that the lower case  “I’s” would be dotted with hearts. (sigh)  .I am hopeless. I tell Lady Thraxx that I am never not going to feel this way about things, I rant that if one does then it is giving up ,blah,blah,blah. She smirks at what she refers to as my  ” Black baptist preacher level enthusiasm”  and sings ” This Magic Moment” and then goes back to hunting for offensive patches on the Internet for our Hesher jackets. My favorite thus far have been ” My boyfriends wife hates me”. “Will fuck for beer.” and the jewel in the crooked crown  “I wouldn’t fuck you for practice.”

It feels so ,god ,I don’t know… swoony ? Yeah… It only ever comes around rarely as I am a rather  fickle creature of very specific and exacting tastes but I swore that I would never give up on desire. On romance. I always knew that I would take long breaks from it due to heartbreak  ,life kicking the snot out of my high stepping ass, the rarity of appropriate creatures to crush on  ( please refer back to the specific taste line above, thank you. ) but if you let it go ? Crappy grown up civilian  life wins. Sucks the color out of your existence and your fragile soul.

Unacceptable on every level. No dice baby. Not on my watch.

Some days I question if  I even have a heart ( the tin man….)  ,that my feelings have no feeling just an absence of space within ,crammed with dust and rogue vortexes searching for unreachable  ledges and tender  prey in that order. But the butterflies the pleasure of your quiet complex company provides and beating off in the shower thinking about you beneath me silent and tight ? Oh honey, that I can do.

And so here I find myself wondering why we always want to see behind the emerald curtain. Why we want to know how it all works, what is on the inside,the mechanics, the machinations, which has been the enfeebled defense of more than one double digit IQ serial killer ( “I take the twinkie defense your honor….”)

Its 4.30 in the morning ,I don’t know if I can do this right now…..’course I can.

( when are you gonna come down? / when are you going to land? / i should have stayed on the farm / i should have listened to my old man……)

So it’s all a Yellow Brick Road. ( Don’t get me started on 70’s Elton John,we will be here all night, je adore.quel sigh…)  We are all heading somewhere and to something. Sometimes someone if we are lucky and able. But we just cant help ourselves can we ? Always rushing always wanting to see what happens next. Rushing our way into forgone conclusions and then asking ” Why? “ when we know the answer ( the scarecrow…..)

The human condition is a real motherfucker.

Thank Elvis I have my ruby slippers. They look rather fetching with my Budweiser bikini and grey Russian rabbit fur hat. I like dressing up on laundry day.


So sue me or take a goddamn picture.

I figure for the 1st time in my life that if you are around? Well that it’s good enough and I don’t need to unravel you. That I can just be. Just happy to think about you stomping all over town in fancy hand tooled boots collecting every eye as you stroll on by. A Rolling Stones riff with a swagger and a smile so sweet it makes my teeth ache.  And I like the shape and weight of your words. I like the measure of your responses when everyone else is talking just to make noise.

Gives me a heart attack. I read that it costs $81.65 in sodium penthanol to kill a prisoner on death row. I tell you things like this and you bet me that you can win me a toy in an arcade game.

I can’t get a read .It’s frustrating and intoxicating in equal measure. You never really make a traditional move ,your eyes are never found on me but you are there. Present. In the dark I feel the weight of your hand on my hip and it makes me weak with desire as we watch the band beat the shit out of the night. Hold my hand tight  right through a show. I want to be where you are. I bounce around like a tattooed satellite and am drawn back into your lanky orbit.

Is that ok?

When we are together I talk too much at first and then I lapse into your sweet stagger time.You feline,I canine. You weave effortless while I run in circles and beat out a tattoo with my tail that gives me away every time ( “Hey! Hey! Hey!!!…)  You slow me down and it’s good. I like your pace. It’s so much cooler than my adhd bullshit. You are opiated with a sense of self and quite confidence. Well that’s how I see I and that’s what I chose to believe. I think that there is plenty to you.  Our steps measure. We keep up. Our corpses fit. I think that I want you around. Do you want me? I think you do….The proof is in your presence.

I hope that I am not wrong.

The air around you shimmers like an oasis.

The cut of your jib I dig. I found myself curled around you and I fit .Rare breed ain’t you?  I fit and I melted into your scent and shape. You reached for me in the dark of the next day cloistered away from the world, in your sleep you searched me out and it set me on fire.

Stuck to me like fuck fueled napalm, When you opened your eyes you saw me with that ocular contact that you grace upon me so rarely. You chilled me to my core. Hair like a brunette storm around our faces, riding you and I drank you, lips under mine. Red lit, our mutual friends new album soft on the stereo to cloak heavy breathing and skin seeking skin with an urgency that I never would have guessed at on your behalf and it flattered me into shocked silence  .I came shaking. I touched your tattoos with my tongue and blacked out, stars falling. The sweat crept the length of the the bent beads of my spine like a cat burglar down a drain pipe.

Got out of bed trying to be cool and almost face planted. So much for cool. Jesus.

Surrender. Do you wanna? Shall we? Could we? We could fuck on the white flag  ,phosphorus staining the the air, bodies on the battlefield and I want you. If your kiss was a song ? A sound? It would be ” When the levee breaks” by Led Zeppelin.

Can I tell you something ?

From the first time you ignored me? Well, I always knew that you were exceptional.