Thursday, March 01, 2007

maeves

Im driving fast out of santiago. fleeing the last night I walked the one block from my hotel to the bar and back. Ive been talking to me head trying to make it forget the irish girl that I sat with last night. theres dead dogs on the road, and I look out the window as I pass them. there five houses out the passenger side that make up a little settlement. theres kids playing and men behind fruit stands selling tomatoes and watermellons. those dogs mustve belonged to somebody, maybe the brown haired hairlip thats swinging a pink and white hoolihoop, or another tossle minnow peddling a shwinn in front of the tourist busses that slow obediantly. the light brown muts stinking and its black lip attracts flies and whatever else will stick. I could fit the whole tail of this dead beast in her drink, the one she devoured while talking about houses and horses. why do I meet girls like that. that say everything I ever wanted to hear, that say things I wont even admit I whisper in a slackers prayer, begging on my knees a future that includes broken brats and mullet ocean bobs with lobster traps and woman that shake when they cum. shes one of them I know it. her baby back with the gross little tribal. shed shake, and bite her lip and roll up her stockings with those beautiful eyes focused on the apex. her nape, the checkered line from the oncoming lane of firefighters whose bell broke my nail and slivered off a piece of liberty, that sunk to the bottom of her glass 2 feet past where I could stand and touch bottom. ‘the deep end” she said. or maybe its just the last nonsequitor I caught. or I should say thatfell into the net, because butterfly catchers arent really hunters and dont really ever catch anything at all there more like lucky fisherman, that cast a net into a dark night sea and hope for the best. I watched her ass glide past the barroom chairs and dissapear into the bathroom. the mongrels eyes weep long lustrous tears for its 5 year old master, the kid with the bicycle that weaves in and out of beach trees determined to pretend he never had a dog at all

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