PoeticaL
cluttering the net since 2001

i'm allergic to gas, no there's something in my eye

Friday, Oct. 18, 2002
So… I was just pumping gas into the pussy car. I was almost crying just because I could no longer ignore the hollow pit in my stomach. I haven’t eaten and I’m hungrier for physical embracing than I am for anything else. My esophagus throws back all gifts of heated over nutrition. My disappointments have released my worries of "too tight" jeans syndrome without prior asking.

I was head down hair blowing, leaning against the hot metal of the car, fingers fisted tight around the gas nozzle. I was trying to find some pretty fray place where I could unclench my heart muscles long enough to take a deep breath.

Then a voice said, “You look so pretty just like that.” And I looked up long enough to see a fog of a man’s face curve into a half moon smile. His well worked blue jean covered legs swinging into his truck, and then he put his hand out his window and waved to me.

head back down
the tears fell in
pretty patterns
on parched concrete

1:32 p.m. ::
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