how i learned to love a repbulican
....I say ‘maybe he was a fag…’ and our Ivy League student has a moment of insight. Thinking that this was my way out and that she would get up and run crying to the bathroom to call him and confront the bastard. This she says has never occurred to her, as if I had just told her the earth was round. Realizing too late how big of a mistake this was, I was caught again, for now she was going into detail about all the little things that he did. About how well he groomed, and the skin toners that he used, the stores he shopped in, how well his apartment was decorated. And this went on and on and on. Into two rounds of wine, I had had all I could take. All the valium in the world could not help me through this one and my only way out was Cynthia and she was flirting with a guy that one of our friends had brought out tonight. That was a lost cause, and I knew she would not be sleeping alone tonight.
With renewed vigor I was searching for a distracting. But it found me instead. In shape of a well dressed man in his mid thirties, I found myself sinking into a place that I thought I would never go again. That level of lust and affection when you meet someone new. That place where there is a change in the air currents and everything seems different. When the wonder of what lies beneath the clothes and what is going on when the synapse fires brings my blood to a boiling point. All music stopped, all sound of laughter and a hundred voices drown out in that rush of silence as he approached me with a smile, in slow motion he walks past a table and the edge of his suit jacket lifts up as he pulls on a cigarette. In Valium vision he has me in sight and I see a glittering in his eyes.
The woman at my side is pulling at me, she is telling me about the jewelry below her skirt and that if I wanted to see it she would show me, but I was not even looking at her. I was lost in a tunnel, caught in the web. Then time was restored as he was at the table, looking at me he asked for a light. His cigarette still burning, I toss him mine and he waits gesturing for me to pull out a smoke. Indulging in this intercourse we where in I allowed him to light me up.
Fire.
Thin trails of smoke.
The exhale.
With renewed vigor I was searching for a distracting. But it found me instead. In shape of a well dressed man in his mid thirties, I found myself sinking into a place that I thought I would never go again. That level of lust and affection when you meet someone new. That place where there is a change in the air currents and everything seems different. When the wonder of what lies beneath the clothes and what is going on when the synapse fires brings my blood to a boiling point. All music stopped, all sound of laughter and a hundred voices drown out in that rush of silence as he approached me with a smile, in slow motion he walks past a table and the edge of his suit jacket lifts up as he pulls on a cigarette. In Valium vision he has me in sight and I see a glittering in his eyes.
The woman at my side is pulling at me, she is telling me about the jewelry below her skirt and that if I wanted to see it she would show me, but I was not even looking at her. I was lost in a tunnel, caught in the web. Then time was restored as he was at the table, looking at me he asked for a light. His cigarette still burning, I toss him mine and he waits gesturing for me to pull out a smoke. Indulging in this intercourse we where in I allowed him to light me up.
Fire.
Thin trails of smoke.
The exhale.