N6
The stars don’t shine here like I wish they would. They never really did. The light pollution of the city hides the beauty of the sky but instead, when looking from this place on the waterfront, we watch the urban stars flicker and fade. 2.13am and no plans to leave any time soon. I sat with her like this most nights and sometimes we talk about everything under the sun, but mostly we talk about ourselves, because that’s what we know most about. [I guess we’re just selfish like that sometimes.]
She smiles and her pink cheeks look sweeter in the dim streetlights that make the boardwalk glow a yellow-orange hue and I giggled as she opened and closed her mouth again in attempts to find the perfect word for everything she has to say. [Somehow she always does.] Her raspberry lips are inviting and her almond eyes mirror mine as we stare at each other, then giggling, look away again just as quickly. I pick up my bottle and put it to my lips as she watches me drink down the intoxicating liquids. She reaches over and takes the bottle from me and drinks deeply. The white curls of smoke play around her face and seeps into the red of her hair. [She looks lovely this way.]
It’ll be beautiful there, Loveface. She assures me as she lies through gritted teeth. I love it there, even though I know you don’t. I’ll come visit you in those silly states, that you loathe, okay? And it will be easier if we’re together. She cuddles into my arm like she always does and we lay on the pavement that scrapes at our elbows, but we don’t notice the pain all too much.
Yeah, I know. I tell her to comfort her. I know when she says ‘love’ she doesn’t really mean it. [She never really did.] Those states almost killed you, I say but she pretends not to hear, as I glide a daring finger to her hips and the bones that threaten to slice through the skin there. We empty another bottle before we walk hand in hand down the streets and past the clubs that blast crappy hip hop from every doorway. We find the small lift that takes us up to Home Base - where the drinks are strong and the tunes are good. We walk in, pushing our way to the dance floor where throw back more too-expensive drink with a lemon slice wedged onto the side. Posh, they call it. [I call it an escape.]
The house music blasts from the DJ as he spins the sickest selection of music from the funkiest house to underground tribal and break beats. As the music swells, we greedily take the drinks offered to us as we lock hands/waists/legs and we move with the mass of people. This was everything we came looking for - one song - one vibration - one feeling to carry us through.
The sun comes as we step out of the lift lobby and onto the streets - still very much alive with the awkward array of parties spilling out of the clubs along side the locals up and starting their day. How irresponsible they must think we are, but we didn’t care much what they thought then. [And somehow I think they have better things do than worry about the drunk GuiLo’s falling everywhere.]
We stagger around the early morning city with her hand in my pocket and my hands around her waist. And we bummed fags off every passer-byer to curb her craving for nicotine as I tell her how bad they are for her. She rolls those almond eyes of hers and says it’s all relative and I know she’s right. [She always is.]
We sit at the bus stop waiting for the N6 to take us home, and talk about those stars turning on and off around us. As the bus pulls up, we tumble on as the driver looks at us with contempt as we stumble up the stairs to the second deck and onto the bench seats. She falls into my arms and promptly into a drunken stupor as I look down at her for awhile and let the sharp turns of the bus rock me to dreamland with her. As I drift in and out of unconsciousness, I whisper gently into her ear. Isn’t this perfection? I ask her resting head, as I lay mine down nuzzled into hers. I guess we’ll think of all this tomorrow - all of our freedoms just as soon as they’re gone.
She smiles and her pink cheeks look sweeter in the dim streetlights that make the boardwalk glow a yellow-orange hue and I giggled as she opened and closed her mouth again in attempts to find the perfect word for everything she has to say. [Somehow she always does.] Her raspberry lips are inviting and her almond eyes mirror mine as we stare at each other, then giggling, look away again just as quickly. I pick up my bottle and put it to my lips as she watches me drink down the intoxicating liquids. She reaches over and takes the bottle from me and drinks deeply. The white curls of smoke play around her face and seeps into the red of her hair. [She looks lovely this way.]
It’ll be beautiful there, Loveface. She assures me as she lies through gritted teeth. I love it there, even though I know you don’t. I’ll come visit you in those silly states, that you loathe, okay? And it will be easier if we’re together. She cuddles into my arm like she always does and we lay on the pavement that scrapes at our elbows, but we don’t notice the pain all too much.
Yeah, I know. I tell her to comfort her. I know when she says ‘love’ she doesn’t really mean it. [She never really did.] Those states almost killed you, I say but she pretends not to hear, as I glide a daring finger to her hips and the bones that threaten to slice through the skin there. We empty another bottle before we walk hand in hand down the streets and past the clubs that blast crappy hip hop from every doorway. We find the small lift that takes us up to Home Base - where the drinks are strong and the tunes are good. We walk in, pushing our way to the dance floor where throw back more too-expensive drink with a lemon slice wedged onto the side. Posh, they call it. [I call it an escape.]
The house music blasts from the DJ as he spins the sickest selection of music from the funkiest house to underground tribal and break beats. As the music swells, we greedily take the drinks offered to us as we lock hands/waists/legs and we move with the mass of people. This was everything we came looking for - one song - one vibration - one feeling to carry us through.
The sun comes as we step out of the lift lobby and onto the streets - still very much alive with the awkward array of parties spilling out of the clubs along side the locals up and starting their day. How irresponsible they must think we are, but we didn’t care much what they thought then. [And somehow I think they have better things do than worry about the drunk GuiLo’s falling everywhere.]
We stagger around the early morning city with her hand in my pocket and my hands around her waist. And we bummed fags off every passer-byer to curb her craving for nicotine as I tell her how bad they are for her. She rolls those almond eyes of hers and says it’s all relative and I know she’s right. [She always is.]
We sit at the bus stop waiting for the N6 to take us home, and talk about those stars turning on and off around us. As the bus pulls up, we tumble on as the driver looks at us with contempt as we stumble up the stairs to the second deck and onto the bench seats. She falls into my arms and promptly into a drunken stupor as I look down at her for awhile and let the sharp turns of the bus rock me to dreamland with her. As I drift in and out of unconsciousness, I whisper gently into her ear. Isn’t this perfection? I ask her resting head, as I lay mine down nuzzled into hers. I guess we’ll think of all this tomorrow - all of our freedoms just as soon as they’re gone.