(no subject)
- I would drive to school with a stick of eyeliner between my teeth, apply it at red lights. I'd powder my nose and cheeks, spread dark faux-gold stuff on my eyelids and make an "o" with my lips while putting on mascara and resting my glasses further down on my nose. I'd walk across the lawn with wet hair tangled and a clean face and I'd straighten myself up in the car. I never really made time to put on make-up, but I'd get it done while driving, you know. I've always admired the girls who could go without make-up for days and weeks and months and years, but I feel naked without eyeliner.
I haven't been wearing make-up for a few days. I sneak Isaac into my psychology class and tell him to read counter-culture feminist magazines in the library while I'm whispering in French and Spanish in room PLM 246. I kiss him at red lights and our conversations involve trying to figure out if we can catch a bus to Georgia before he leaves on the 30th and today I caught myself saying "Next time we hang out, maybe we should meet in New York." Earth seems tiny when he's around. I've never driven to the ocean, but we talk about jumping from city to city, state to state, province to province, country to country, and it happens.
He is always singing.