October 16, 2004 - 1:09 a.m.
face of stone
leprichaun legs
the heat is rising to my head
short skirt
equally short jacket
i walk home dazed by the strangeness of my wierd fucking shitty ass night
i can't salsa on carpet.
to start
nor can i watch some dumb chick tip a bartender $1.25 on her ten shots.
Incongruities of the meaningless, metaphor-less kind
latin music, martini night, irish pub
what the fuck?!?
and it doesn't matter how hot you look when all you feel is wierd.
when some woman comes up to you, emerging seemingly, from nowhere,
to pinch, pinch, keep pinching your forearm until you realize that yes, it actually does hurt, and your eyes are moving from your arm to her face feeling like you've got one piece left of a puzzle but that ther is no way that it fits, and you realize that really it's not even from the same puzzle box and clearly
the joke is on you
and puzzled is the look on my face,
as she riddles,
"you've never been hurt by a stranger before"
until i realize that i should be mad and send my free hand into the temple of this broad,
but all i say is
"no"
