(no subject)
I'm such a crazy cosmic kid.
Today, on the bus ride home, I fell madly in anonymous love with a man riding two rows down and one seat to the left of me on the bus. He looked like one of those dirty garage rock boys who forgot what soap looked like. And I hid there, beneath my trusty hooded sweatshirt, boho skirt, massive headphones, and black eyeliner; staring him down in awe of his confidence. Maroon aviator sunglasses. Mussed up brown hair. A hint of stubble. A too-tight aqua, blue, and yellow striped thrift shirt circa 1983. Clingy jeans, hugging his frame, and battered chucks.
And as I got off on 47th street, he peered over his maroon aviators and smiled at me. I suppose he noticed me, too.
Today, on the bus ride home, I fell madly in anonymous love with a man riding two rows down and one seat to the left of me on the bus. He looked like one of those dirty garage rock boys who forgot what soap looked like. And I hid there, beneath my trusty hooded sweatshirt, boho skirt, massive headphones, and black eyeliner; staring him down in awe of his confidence. Maroon aviator sunglasses. Mussed up brown hair. A hint of stubble. A too-tight aqua, blue, and yellow striped thrift shirt circa 1983. Clingy jeans, hugging his frame, and battered chucks.
And as I got off on 47th street, he peered over his maroon aviators and smiled at me. I suppose he noticed me, too.