|| a dame to kill for ||
I am violently jolted out of my daydream when she looks up at me from her textbook, her hair falling in her eyes and a slight purse on her lips. These are the kind of looks I look forward too. I look forward to them, and yet I only get to bear witness maybe once every six months. Not at all often enough. I stammer for a moment. I am all too aware how I sound: like one of those muppets from Sesame Street who speak a language that's not quite english, not quite human. All I can say is "wow".
At that moment I am instantly aware of all my surroundngs. I hear the refridgerator humming, whispers outside and a sporadic girlish giggle, the fan making its melancholy rotations. It's like everything becomes real at once. Reality becomes a burden blocking me from the fantasy in the back of my psyche that almost proves too real.
Instead of continuing my banter of idiocy, I do the next thing that comes to my mind.
I deliver a slap. Hard.
Not to her. God, no. I slap myself full-on in the face. It does nothing to make myself feel better.. but it does take the emphasis off of the misplaced 'wow' I muttered before. She breaks off into a fit of gratuitous laughing and I feel relieved. She laughs for a good 45 seconds at least. Then she says "Wow, what?"
Shit.
So much for that plan. Now I have a stinging face complete with the outline of a giant hand imprinted from my forehead to my chin.
Wow, you're beautiful is what I meant to say, and would have made it more apparent were I not such a coward. I've always thought so, known so. I've even said it aloud on certain occasions. ( Alcohol was involved, but they count as occasions nonetheless ).
So, I've come up with a plan. Here it is.
I leave Texas, and forget. For another six months. Or year. Or two.
This, I am well schooled in and seems to be all I know.
At that moment I am instantly aware of all my surroundngs. I hear the refridgerator humming, whispers outside and a sporadic girlish giggle, the fan making its melancholy rotations. It's like everything becomes real at once. Reality becomes a burden blocking me from the fantasy in the back of my psyche that almost proves too real.
Instead of continuing my banter of idiocy, I do the next thing that comes to my mind.
I deliver a slap. Hard.
Not to her. God, no. I slap myself full-on in the face. It does nothing to make myself feel better.. but it does take the emphasis off of the misplaced 'wow' I muttered before. She breaks off into a fit of gratuitous laughing and I feel relieved. She laughs for a good 45 seconds at least. Then she says "Wow, what?"
Shit.
So much for that plan. Now I have a stinging face complete with the outline of a giant hand imprinted from my forehead to my chin.
Wow, you're beautiful is what I meant to say, and would have made it more apparent were I not such a coward. I've always thought so, known so. I've even said it aloud on certain occasions. ( Alcohol was involved, but they count as occasions nonetheless ).
So, I've come up with a plan. Here it is.
I leave Texas, and forget. For another six months. Or year. Or two.
This, I am well schooled in and seems to be all I know.