standing outside Victoria’s and Albert’s historical lovechild having a long skinny vogue menthol
the elderly woman to my left is enjoying a Marlboro.
she also enjoys a long perfectly groomed and highlighted fur coat in shades of brown, pearl earrings, and purple purple purple curls.
she walks in front of me, looking into my eyes and then to my platform boots. She extinguishes Mr. Marly delicately around the corner and turns right into the rain.
I looked forward and thought about sending a text to Vlad saying that I had a baby pink umbrella to help in trying to find me, but instead I turned again to my left.
the replacement sucked on a foreign brand of cancer.
ill-fitting loafers, socks, gray sweatsuit, wearing the shape of an apple on her little-legged skeleton
we locked eyes, her smiling slightly-wrinkled eyes, my slow-moving eyes, and followed each other’s gaze to face forward
I thought quietly about the choppy red-tinted short hair
she took her time and allowed her loafers to follow suit of the elderly women’s heels, extinguishing her foreign affair around the same right corner.
two tall twin twigster girls with matching all-studded sneakers took my second smoker’s place
they light their cigarettes, talked very quickly, and stood no more than within 6 inches from each other’s nose.
I was focused on their very blinged-out sneakers when a young man from Greece came to greet me and my pink umbrella from the elusive right corner.
two kisses, left cheek right cheek, a glimpse of two earrings in the right-side earlobe, and the killing of a cool vogue with the rain to the right
walking inside, someone had to have taken my place under Victoria and Albert’s broad entryway
I like to think that they used all their senses to smoke their cigarette with the persons to their left as well, not just their luscious lips and cold rainy hand.
The fries were too salty
the cigarette was too minty
the anecdote of a one-time love love lover who left made it easier to smoke
The fries needed more salt
my lipstick looked perfect on her
the realization that all men share some similar threads that aren’t bought in the stores made it easier to put on more more chapstick and accidentally smear off all that perfect lipstick
lying naked in the orange-lit room at 2pm we smoke cigarettes and tell each other the names of our future children.
he likes the name lily-rose. I hang half my body upside down off of the couch-bed and exhale, telling him that I already know one
and that my son will be lewis. we both know we wont have children with the same names
but he rolls on to me and kisses my ears anyway.
i’ll make a boat and sail through panama for you girl.
haha thats the best thing someone has said to me today
I’ll send you a new best thing every day
until we meet again
I never again received another best thing
But maybe it’s the best thing?
my roommates refer to him as “the one with the white sweater”
he told me he liked my voice
he didn’t say much
he told me he loved my voice
he left in the morning because he was too hungry
and didn’t like how I made his hot chocolate
Staring at two rotten frayed clothespins that look like they’re married.
I’m reminded of making clothespin pilgrims and indians
when I believed that history was as honest as Abe..Whaattta babe.