August 17, 2003
Barred Cincinnati
I made a croissant pocket this morning, and the crisping smell of that indelectable meal had my mind wandering, memories surfacing of mornings we spent in bed, drinking coffee, arguing over who got to play Morrowind first. I shrink from the past, fearing it, even the beautiful bits. The idea of time travel has always fascinated me, but I can honestly say I would never return to relish moments of my own life. Each day that passes more finely shapes the clay of me, and I could not go back without un-knowing my self, without encountering the hollow nature of what already has been.
I'm scared of yesterday Mike, because I have known him today. There is nothing sweeter than a new moment, a fresh touch.
The two of us stalked the streets of downtown Cincinnati with Missouri Dave, bent on finding a club, and hookers, only to have our dreams cast like shadows into the street. I am too long at 20, I need to be 21. We were given leave to have drinks (them) and sandwiches (Mike and I) at one generous bar, where the central topic of conversation between the three of us were the intricasies concerning girls' panties; namely their colour.
Mine were green. Dave remained unawares to this, though Mike learned both verbally and visually. At his gentlemanly request, of course, and my ladylike granting of it.
Dave is talking about women. The lush halls of the Westin Hotel are too clean for our young and filthy mouths.
"I'm looking for the right one, you know?"
"No such thing." I pause, my feet crooked in heeled Mary-Janes. "All women are evil. Right, Mike?"
Mike is silent as Dave chatters on, but he is smiling.
"No, no. You want the perfect woman. She's a lady in public, and wild in bed, a real back-scratcher-ear-biter. And she can serve your mother tea with a straight face."
Mike catches my eye, and I feel my mouth screwing up in something like a knowing smile. I want to laugh, but I am nodding instead. I feel his hand on my waist, our gait made awkward by this need for touching, for closeness.
"Hmmmm."
I wonder what sort of tea Mike's mother likes?
astera at 2:24 p.m.