{i deleted this for some reason, but i don't care about it anymore so i'll repost...
expect some ~Things~ soon - im forced to become serious}


"what it's like at night"




I turned around and noticed that she still had a piece of candy in her hands. I scooped it out of her palm with my mouth and ate the candy dry.

She woke up, startled, wondering where her confection had gone. It seemed to have scared her, that I had stolen it from her so suddenly. I had betrayed her trust.

I patted her on the shoulder for a second and rubbed the back of her spine with my fingertips. I remember when I would do that with other girls that I had been with, the same gentle motion, gliding my fingers back and forth in a vain attempt at sexual dexterity, only recently realizing that no two girls are the same. One must have an arsenal of moves to rely upon, I would think to myself, assuring that person in the back of my head that I knew, that I KNOW what's going on.

But I still don't. I don't know why I stole the candy. I had told her that I loved her about four times before we made love and afterwards all I wanted was her candy. I imagined her as a little plump girl who always had candy in her hands and threw a tantrum when there wasn't enough. This was the girl I was sleeping with, this plump candy eating pumpkin that rolled around in the halls eating candy all day. I was only a little sure that I loved her now, I still loved her curves, and I liked the things she was saying.

"How come you sleep with the lights on?"

I would reply,
"would you rather have two boobs with one head or four boobs with no head?"

She has a great laugh. She laughed for two hours and accused me of wanting the second one.
I needed some coffee suddenly, even though it was about three in the morning, even though we still had so long until either of us had to be anywhere. I wanted to wake up right then and there and start my day.

"Do you have any macaroni?" I said. "I want to make some macaroni."

"Are you going to put cheese in it?"

I replied, "Of course not, how much candy do you need?"

In my mind I had imagined her saying she wanted me to add chocolate and caramel and cream to the macaroni, when I realized what she had said I dug my claws into her back and said,
"Forget the macaroni."


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Some time passed, twenty or thirty minutes. We had sex again before pontificating about our past sexual exploits. This seems to have become a ritual with my partners and I- to derisively talk about former lovers and their flaws, how our union was infinitely stronger and more obvious than those that had happened back then. I wondered how many people thought the same things about us, talked badly about our habits and sexploits and flaws. I smiled at this, and I told her that we were both terrible in bed, she smiled and made me have a go again.

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So some MORE time has passed and now we're looking at the ceiling and she's telling me about all the friends she hangs out with that she hates, and I'm spacing out a bit counting the holes that the stucco didn't fill in all the way. This room is rather suffocating, I think I want to get out of here. She didn't hear that, so I said it out loud, and then she said, "but what do you think of Stephanie or Michael?" and I didn't have a reply for her. She kept droning on about this and I kept thinking about the holes in the ceiling and how even though I didn't have a solution for her problems I was glad I had spent the night. It was nice to know that someone else had neurotic thoughts at night, even though mine included images of sheep and knives and hers included teacups and parasols.
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Neither of us were to wake up in the morning. We wouldn't be the same people then, we wouldn't have the same fears or insecurities or sexual drives. Maybe we would get breakfast, but we wouldn't be sure if we actually liked each other enough at that point. I threw an orange at her dog's head and she hit me in the arm. I would've been lying if I had said it wasn't funny. She said that it was funny but that she loved her dog more than anything and so I walked up to where the orange was, peeled it, and threw it at her head.

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There was a time when we laid and stared and didn't actually say anything, waiting for the other person to drift into sleep, listening to the rhythms of their breathing and sensing the twitches of their eyes. She said I looked so haunted when I was sleeping. I said she had looked like a Jack-O-Lantern. In reality, she looked like the crumpled up wrapper of a peanut butter cup, ridges and everything. I remember having a few quarters in my pocket that I wanted to roll down the folds of her forehead. We didn't know each other well enough at this point, sure we had talked a lot, but we didn't actually know each other, so I chose not to do it. Later in my life I would, and it would be the most satisfying 5 in the morning experience I would ever have.

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Slowly the light came up outside;
I don't think either of us knew who we were or what we were doing. I seemed more confident, talking away about nothing. She seemed like she wanted to get out of there, to be with her own thoughts for a while. We ended up getting some juice and a bagel and maybe we hugged or kissed or had sex again but it had been so blurry. The light felt so strange on our faces, reminded me of all the times my alarm clock would blare and thwart my attempt to escape reality for just a few more moments. She was at the edge of the sidewalk, close to where the busses pull up, close to where cars would creep toward you to make right turns. I closed my eyes and imagined a taxi rear ending her body, giggled in my mind but then clutched her suddenly,
devoured her bosom with my face and kept it there;
she held my head for a while, and said ,

, , ,

,
"maybe we should turn off the light"
how did she know the light would be there?
how did she know it was so unpleasant...
we're in bed again, blurry and quiet and furious.
the night happens again,
and then it happens a few more times
and then we are left with everything that happens when it crumbles
and when it does
remember not to forget these moments at night when we were delusional and hungry and horny as hell, when we were scared to let each other go, when one of us stole the blanket and the other just let them be -

forget about what happened after breakfast.
we already remember.