Thursday, October 24, 2013

Diner Girls: ff

Diner Girls

There was a Rahm, and a Leapt, or possibly a Lept. Boys with street bite and rubbish taste in pants. Full scratch, all of them; wiggling puppies, anyway, no matter their needle-sharp teeth. Push them down and run away; circling back on the track. Cigarette smoke from three years—


Sculptures chewed into existence: this is the heart. Her smell is cheeseburgers, hot fries, buzzing diner lights at two a.m. I can close my eyes and place my palms on smooth counters, feeling for the grit of lost sugar. Eleven cups, two old men—


All those boys, snapping at my heels. She impresses on first listen. Commands them to get lost, and so they do, Peter Panning into the cosmos. This pain is like no other; it's black and gamboling around my head. It's lonely and golden. It's drunk on her scent, swathed in big discoveries, pounding conversations into smoke. I barely recall the Aderall we took, her favorite unnecessary drug. Some things dissolve on the tongue, but this was a week
and her feet are still propped in my lap. Rubbing them for her after long shifts makes her love me, makes us stop talking long enough to enjoy the smell of cold burgers on greasy yellow buns, sitting there, waiting for us to devour them. This was a second ago
and now

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