last night i stuffed my hands into my pockets and my ring protruded ever so rudely through the thick cloth of my pants. a man with stubble and leather and far too tight pants poked this nub, said "hey bib, want some movie tickets" and then stepped on my friend's foot. it was love at first....smell. he smelled like pumpkins. not pumpkin pie or anything, real authentic pumpkin guts. i swear i saw the seeds in his pocket. his smile had a hint of skoal and more than a smidge of nicotine in it, and as he spoke his chin flopped and his gravelly voice made you laugh dryly as pun after pun spilled from between his chapped lips. this andy, and his two nameless friends, one a lady, eclipsed me with their presence. leather always does. i pulled my hat down further over my ears as i examined their boots and pumps, respectively. pinstripes and neon plastic and spikes adorned their appendages, and an arm was thrown around my shoulder, a mouth called out bib once again, and we were on our way. this strange new friendship where proper names and ages are never spoken of, and eyes are always stared into, makes me wonder what stylish and laconic stone these creatures crawled out from underneath

my unspoken rule of no curfew as long as a call is made was broken, and i returned home just 60 minute ticks before the sun was bound to rise. a finger beckoned me into a room where whispered apologies were made, bloodshot eyes were masked and a quick wave before a stumble to bed was made

i still have the marks from loving twizzler whips on my arm

<<|>>