Thursday, May 15, 2008
bitter is an ice cream best unscooped
we sat on a monument that looked like a gravestone in downtown los angeles next to city hall it was hot and we were eating chicken kabobs in the shade. it was a thursday, it was farmers market, it was the first day of summer untechnically but pretty much. she was young and beautiful and idealistic and dipping her kabob into her small dallop of humus as i went on about this or that in the nastiest bitterest most heartbreaking way what have i become i thought to myself as it dawned to me under the fumbling fingertips from a thai girls massage who is this creature speaking from inside? why have i cashed out any hope of hope any joy in love any belief that the future is uncertain when did i become a knowitall and sad? i spewed and rambled and brought nothing good to anything i wasnt listening or helping or adding or encouraging but i did notice this little boy playing on the monument headstone, gravemarker we all shared hed poke his head around hers and smile at me as i dissed childbirth and creating mini me's fucker couldnta been cuter and thankfully didnt know english.
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