SWORDFERN
Rooted, I used to think.

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Giving Notice - Friday, Sept. 29, 2017
Accepting Offers - Tuesday, Sept. 26, 2017
Indian/Polish Wedding - Thursday, Sept. 21, 2017
The Builder - Wednesday, Sept. 13, 2017
Rupert Part II - Sunday, Sept. 10, 2017


Friday, Feb. 20, 2004 @ 3:21 am
A Guy Like You



I am your Thursday night.

You called me, the last digits of your phone number the year I came into consciousness, and over I came. I was supposed to just pick you up - we were going to meet Jack down at the Av.

The door was unlocked and I let myself in. You told me to do that, just come over whenever, the door is open. You were on the couch watching channel twelve and when you stood up to come hug me my heart jumped as my eyes feasted.

You hug me and kiss my neck. Tell me I smell good. My hair is still dripping down my back. You kiss my cheek.

I keep telling you We should go and you keep on trying. It's ecstasy when your skin touches mine. I want to hold onto you and you keep pushing me away, to make space, your fingers quick to the button on my pants.

I stand up and start redressing. You lie there, feigning sorrow and pain, You expect me to go out like this? Look what you did to my hair.

At the bar you play pool and I'm staring at your arms and stance, backwards-turned baseball cap, your steady eyes down the cue. You shake the hand of the winner, tip the waitress and tuck your arm around me to make way for the bouncer.

I'm with you, if only for tonight. Under the table our legs are touching and I can't help but smile, knowing that a guy like you could want to be with a girl like me.




Roots | Shoots