||[Sep. 3rd, 2005|01:38 am]
|||||Various - Seu Jorge / Life On Mars||]|
I started writing some more bullshit prose tonight. And then I stopped. This is where I stopped:
I was in love with her—this squat, elfin little girl whose freckles seemed to be in all the right places. She had red hair. Every time she breathed I wanted to touch it. I wanted to touch her.
We were each other’s worlds then. I didn’t want it to stop.
When we were alone she made me feel empty inside—and I let her. I let her do a lot of things.
It was enough just to kiss her. To love her.
It didn’t matter where her head was. Mine was with her.
I told her I loved her too fast. Everyone said so. Everyone was my best friend, Paulo. If you listened to Paulo he was the biggest pimp the east coast has ever seen. Paulo only weighed forty-five pounds. He was a midget.
I called him that when I wanted to make him mad.
She was his sister. Gloria. I loved everything about her—even the sound of her name rolling off my tongue. Gloria.
I would go on to write poems about Gloria. Three volumes.
If you asked me, I would tell you that Gloria was the name of heaven. But you didn’t ask me. And I know what you’re thinking. Really I do.
The answer is no.
In other news: I drank a bottle of orange-flavored MD 20/20 today. That shit is terrible. I miss cognac. Maybe I should just stick to bottled water?