Small Waist, Big Attitude
Lexington at 24th this morning. Me- brown hair, black shirt, European sunglasses. You- super hot, super fit, wearing a red shirt with white pants. Chinese, maybe. Or Pakistani. You were crossing the street. I was in my Jag. I offered you money to pee on me. You ripped the hood ornament off my Jag. Can I have it back? They’re super expensive.
You- beige trenchcoat and brown briefcase. Me- sweatpants and messy hair. I looked gross but you smiled at me anyway as you got in your car. You told me you’d pick up the kids after school and meet me at my parents’ place. You also said that you hoped “that today is going to be one of the good days”. What does that mean? You’re mysterious, crazy stranger.
I was in line at the MacDonald’s near the elementary school. You were in the playground in the ball room wearing pink, fitted Dora the Explorer overalls. I asked you what you were drinking. You said root beer. I was about to get you a 50 cent refill when your grenade of a mother comes up and tells me she’s going to phone the police. I ask her what her problem is and she says that I “need to stop hitting on a six year old”. Just so you know, you could totally pass for eight.
Saw you crying and throwing up in the alley beside Sky Bar last night. Why were you so sad and sick? I asked you if you had any change. You called me a disgusting bum and cried and threw up more. I stole your purse and posted this message with your iPhone. Want it back? Meet me under the bridge over the ravine. Bring liquor and that smile.
We were both reading the finance section on the subway around 6 pm yesterday. Or rather I was looking over your shoulder as you read. Your hair smelled of avocado. You were getting off before me and I didn’t have anything witty to say so I exposed myself to you. It’ll be a funny story for our kids. Well, our adopted kids. I’m sterile.