Voices Through The Door
It rained last night.
Plain white t-shirt.
8th grade LEI's turned rockabilly-maybe cuffed at the ankles pants.
A rainbowed heart and darker cranium-shaped blob of white.
With two-holes punched, in it.
It poured.
Two homeless punks (punks! for once!) took turns spitting at eachother.
Ran in my direction.
The boy spit on me.
But this kind of human contact made me so happy I was immediately embarassed to have been crying in the rain.
I laughed hysterically.
He looked a little scared.
I spat back as fast as I could.
He laughed.
And the three of us played rainy splat-a-punk with thick gobs of saliva.
After about two minutes we just punched eachother in the ribs to avoid the awkward-goodbye.
They were out of sight before I got a chance to learn their names.
I stood outside New York Pizza with my faced turned to the sky and smiled so hard I cried.
In that cold, tears were something to hope for.
I drank it all in with everything I had.
And then cried it all out again.
300 miles away lives all that I had.
Plain white t-shirt.
8th grade LEI's turned rockabilly-maybe cuffed at the ankles pants.
A rainbowed heart and darker cranium-shaped blob of white.
With two-holes punched, in it.
It poured.
Two homeless punks (punks! for once!) took turns spitting at eachother.
Ran in my direction.
The boy spit on me.
But this kind of human contact made me so happy I was immediately embarassed to have been crying in the rain.
I laughed hysterically.
He looked a little scared.
I spat back as fast as I could.
He laughed.
And the three of us played rainy splat-a-punk with thick gobs of saliva.
After about two minutes we just punched eachother in the ribs to avoid the awkward-goodbye.
They were out of sight before I got a chance to learn their names.
I stood outside New York Pizza with my faced turned to the sky and smiled so hard I cried.
In that cold, tears were something to hope for.
I drank it all in with everything I had.
And then cried it all out again.
300 miles away lives all that I had.