Sunday, February 17, 2013

(Found:) Notes about my Valium10 dealer

February-March 2010

I was done smoking a pack, and you’re down to your last, but the smoke that separates us never fades. A simple muscle spasm might make our shoulders touch in an instant, but the face (your face), that I’m looking at, is so blurry that you seem so far away.

You say you love my feet. You like staring at them. You like staring as I wiggle my toes. You like watching me walk barefoot, soles gently touching the cold sidewalk. But that’s just now. You’ll soon realize that mine is nothing but another pair of feet, made ugly by veins that protrude on the surface.

It was a hot afternoon in your cramped apartment-slash-bedroom. John and Yoko didn't care that we're seeing them naked in your wall. You turned on the radio; Bjork was singing. You let the curtains down as you hum Venus As A Boy. Still humming, you filled my coffee cup with J├Ągermeister after you did yours, but the clink of the mouth of the bottle meeting the lid of my cup was louder. It even seemed louder from the silence when the power went out, and we were there bound by four corners. You tried to kiss me as we talked in your bed. I pushed you away. You said, "What's the matter?" And I told you, "I am here for the J├Ąger." And I hummed Hunter.

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