Sunday, October 3, 2010

Speakeasy Logic

I was a hijacker tonight: a thoughtless, meandering, slobbering hijacker.

With a little scream and a little sniffle I won the keys to the car and drove in ovals and U’s.

Followed paths worn down by lovers’ past.

Made loops while I beat the night into submission with my WHYs my FUCKs my OH MY GODs.

Because I was in Honors English I know that this is called “situational irony”.

Because I was the one parked alone in a parking lot at midnight, watching a man in a suit too nice for my neighborhood get out of his chauffeured car, I know that it’s called “fucking misery”, a “dog from hell”.

Then, with an especially loud “AHHHHHHHHHH” and a pounding on the poor, poor steering wheel I had that awful sensation of being punched in the nose. That bitter, inexplicable taste of being dumbfounded.

The thing is, I wasn’t supposed to be doing this. I wasn’t supposed to be wearing three day old clothes, unwashed hair sticking to my forehead, while choking on the humid air coming out of my broken air conditioner.

Transcend humanness.

Fuck that.

I switched out the CD that was filtering melodic sex through the speakers and put on something a bit more angelic.

All that did was remind me of the time we were driving on the side of a cliff and it was just black.

Remembrance. And not the scrapbook/yearbook/memory book variety.

And then like a choreographed stage production, just as my tears stopped, a hungry vigilante took their place.

I wouldn’t have it though because that son of a bitch was the reason for the tears anyways.

I pressed on, thinking of anything and everything that makes me well up. Salty, make-up streaking evidence that I’m not an emotionless humanoid.

Quite the opposite, really.

The beastly tyrant insistent upon vindication shut his mouth and I felt like I had fallen into a pile of clean hotel linens.

I different kind of “ahhh”.

But, BUT guess who arrived just in time to the grooves of my mammalian brain?

The Harlequin girl in her pointed heels and fishnets.

This time she told me that I didn’t have to listen to her sermon on single-mindedness so long as I promise to regain my ability to lust without implications. HAH.

“Pathetic” ones at least.

“Your words, they’ll come back. Kiss a stranger and they’ll come back. Stake love in the heart and you’ll come back.” Puff, puff, blow. 

I shook my head. No, no, no. Another obligatory “FUCK” escaped my mouth along with a gusty breath so violent it burned my throat. 

 “I’m not her anymore. He took that away, he made me….he made me.. this. I’ve never been jealous before. I never understood why people would kill in the name of love till right now. Right this very moment.”

“Oh, stupid girl. He’s just trying to be you. You’re the promoter of poly-amorous living. And you, you’re trying to be him.”

“Yeah, poly-amorousity that I feigned because I was trying to not be my mother. When I drove by the strip club a few minutes ago I even thought to myself, maybe I should just walk in an ask for an application. God knows I need the fucking money. But guess what? The thought repulsed me because it’s bullshit. All of it’s bullshit. I’m floundering here.”

Puff, puff, blow.

“Well you let me know how this self-pitying thing goes for you. Love is a myth remember? Love is a trite, one syllable word that you cast off because you preferred the raw showcase of sexuality. Remember that one? It’s my personal favorite.”

“Yeah, well the fucking bonding hormones have obliterated that naive ideology.”

She laughed at me then, and left. Leaving her trail of smoke billowing behind her.

I drove home.

1 comment:

  1. Jesus how I've missed you and your beautiful writing!

    I'm sorry about the now ex but if this ^^ is anything to go by, your sanity is worth more.

    I would LOVE to contribute something. When do you need it by dear?