do you recall?
I’m talking about kibbie. the total fucking asshole. the one my dad promises to take a baseball bat to, if they should ever meet again. I’m talking about kibbie from high school. the one who lives out in the boonies, where all of the streets are called after planets, constellations. kibbie, the one with hair like a dog’s, the one who limps.
get this.
he turns up a year later with these apologies, these “I’m sorry for being such an inconsiderate jerk” balloons, the words handwritten in permanent marker. he brings a beta band album for me, to replace the one that he’d unfeelingly thieved, all of that time ago.
back in the day, see, I hated his guts more than reading assignments, mosquito bites, food & my having to eat it. I wanted about as much to do with him as a famished old rat might want to do with the cheese in a trap. that is to say, I wanted very much to do with him, but it was only at my own expense.
supposedly we were lovebirds; but in truth, he’d just dole out some attention to me on occasion so that I’d fuck him, proceeding then to ignore me at once- yet again, avoiding me like the plague, like rain that evades the parched earth during a dry-spell, taking care as not to provide the hardened land with even the smallest drop of water. I didn’t seem to get it. I was the dry-spell, the impoverished soil.
I’ll admit, I was rather romanced by his amends, last night. as it happened, we made love for ages. we really took our time. he was so very gentle with me, you know. so affectionate & so tender. sincerely. it felt like I’d never expected. strange and extraordinary, like being born.
in the morning, of course he said that he’d call me later, but I initially found myself thinking: yeah, right! SURE he’ll call me. & sharks have wings. & I can lick my elbow.
well. he did call me, sure as the sun, it’s rise & fall. we met up at this hookah bar (he delights in filling his lungs with FIRE!) & talked about the halfway home, platform shoes. certainly, anyone with my experience would have expected the kid to be his entirely malicious & advantage-taking self to the bitter end,
but I dare say- he was dreadfully kind to me. completely dreamy.
we even held hands.
before he left tonight, I let him read all of the nasty things I had once written about him over the internet. likely, it made him feel like absolute shit- but christ, he’s given me so much grief! he had it coming.
regardless to say, we kissed outside of the library.
my, it is nice when we kiss! super nice, he says.
so there you have it. I am fond of him, again. for sure I am.
I mean, what is a girl to do? he is adorable & sorry & I sure am one for forgiveness/letting boys charm their way back into my heart, bedroom.
this time he claims he is “spoony” over me, “dewy-eyed,” the works.
& shouldn’t I believe him?
he is taking me bowling & everything.
get this.
he turns up a year later with these apologies, these “I’m sorry for being such an inconsiderate jerk” balloons, the words handwritten in permanent marker. he brings a beta band album for me, to replace the one that he’d unfeelingly thieved, all of that time ago.
back in the day, see, I hated his guts more than reading assignments, mosquito bites, food & my having to eat it. I wanted about as much to do with him as a famished old rat might want to do with the cheese in a trap. that is to say, I wanted very much to do with him, but it was only at my own expense.
supposedly we were lovebirds; but in truth, he’d just dole out some attention to me on occasion so that I’d fuck him, proceeding then to ignore me at once- yet again, avoiding me like the plague, like rain that evades the parched earth during a dry-spell, taking care as not to provide the hardened land with even the smallest drop of water. I didn’t seem to get it. I was the dry-spell, the impoverished soil.
I’ll admit, I was rather romanced by his amends, last night. as it happened, we made love for ages. we really took our time. he was so very gentle with me, you know. so affectionate & so tender. sincerely. it felt like I’d never expected. strange and extraordinary, like being born.
in the morning, of course he said that he’d call me later, but I initially found myself thinking: yeah, right! SURE he’ll call me. & sharks have wings. & I can lick my elbow.
well. he did call me, sure as the sun, it’s rise & fall. we met up at this hookah bar (he delights in filling his lungs with FIRE!) & talked about the halfway home, platform shoes. certainly, anyone with my experience would have expected the kid to be his entirely malicious & advantage-taking self to the bitter end,
but I dare say- he was dreadfully kind to me. completely dreamy.
we even held hands.
before he left tonight, I let him read all of the nasty things I had once written about him over the internet. likely, it made him feel like absolute shit- but christ, he’s given me so much grief! he had it coming.
regardless to say, we kissed outside of the library.
my, it is nice when we kiss! super nice, he says.
so there you have it. I am fond of him, again. for sure I am.
I mean, what is a girl to do? he is adorable & sorry & I sure am one for forgiveness/letting boys charm their way back into my heart, bedroom.
this time he claims he is “spoony” over me, “dewy-eyed,” the works.
& shouldn’t I believe him?
he is taking me bowling & everything.