You could have been a victim, but i dont see you that way, she told him. He was looking down there in the malibu cafe in northern idaho somewhere. it was raining, thats where, and he was depressed. there, somewhere. where it was raining and he was stuck in the mud. going nowhere...
Not even going mad, because he knew he lost sanity back in vancouver a decade earlier. his survival he credited to his dedication to drawing, pall mall blues, and the indestructible nature of youth. harm reduction rounded out the top 5 after music, which probably fell into a tie for third if he really let it rent time in his head...he didn't.
I dont see myself that way neither, he said, spinning the clouds of half &half, half into an even & lighter shade of mud in his coffee. half and half makes it whole, he thought, as the tone of the coffee went light as milk chocolate.
-- He loved her allowance of silence between words.....a rare quality --
He smiled up to her with sudden attention and focus, before saying with great confidence, its only karma i see, feel, awaken to -- whatever. you know what i mean? Its something I cannot help but follow.
Yeah. That's right, like sometimes not wanting to see what we have done in that light, after weve done them. Right? She smiled a little in saying so. He looked up to catch her light beams dripping steady off her bottom lip (and he must have looked obsessed, must have looked the look in love!) cause he experienced her smile (the halves of senses connected up into the whole experience which was worth recording if not marketing and selling! he envisioned)...
and cause she was slowly pulling the little stone cup with the last little creamer away from his greedy eyes and hands. He coveted her, she was milk like sugar, so sweet was she! (she was). To be worshipped like divinity, was she, (he rolled the words into a rap inside his mind), to be caught like a buzz, she was! Yes she was.
-- He got lost in her time, travelled there, without a fear. without a care--
He looked up above the creamer to the line where her camisol met her skin, then followed the line above her black jade buddha pendant, with devotion (oh damn!), until the water logged his eyes and set him swimming even more so! Nothing, just nothing could bother him now. His eyes were so brilliant, caught up in hers. Made water dilute the dust the lashes failed to block when his attention turned to rapture, you see. The lashes beat time now to work the dust out to the tips and discarded back to air. Now she again became the recipient of his full on gaze. Separated only by air.
Mutuality... he could see it on her face. The world got a little brighter every time her lips tightened and drew up and out to show her too white teeth. she claimed she bleached them as a teenager, with the encouragement of a friend. Same year he started drinking and smoking weed. she was probably younger than him chronologically, but developmentally? forget about it!
Her beauty reduced him down a decade or so, to that teenage boy kinda crush kinda way, caught in the crossfire of her tractor beam scene. No worries! Her sexy forward lean toward him at the table? Forget about it. Depressed a little? Not right now. Not for this eternity in a moment.
His whole character was drawn a decade less stable. When they parted ways, their cups empty, the thought of being left by her made him shiver cold...he hugged his arms and stumbled home to put pen to paper and just try and recapture her, just try. Falling forward again with the pen stabbed into the paper on the table. Goddamn, goddamn! he cried. Having lost her again. His mood flipped like the charge of an electron. And yes you can imagine this element -- become unstable.
His eyes turning black into the darkness of the inkblot. His euphoria draining out of him, also into the wood table. Poor boy in love. Poor boy disarmed... disabled.
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