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David Dove, 30 Oct '12

Are they kidding? I had just stepped outside in the wind along the inland side of the port, and what do I see sauntering towards me?.. Tweedle, Dee and Dum. I could barely even settle on which one was Dum, but by the time they passed me, the near flank splashing my tan wool slacks with black sludge washed up onto the sidewalk, I had decided it had to be the girl. She rolled her tongue over her ample Angelina Jolies and I wanted in. The rain had barely let up. I was holed up inside the old port building near the peir nearly 2 hours waiting out what they said was a hurricane, and stepped outside into the night to this circus. I was barely dressed for the storm myself. My suit-jacket had soaked clean through before I could make it to shelter, then coming back out I got black on my pants. Somebody had to pay for that.

Mine and the girl's eyes were locked in some kind of dance and I concluded it might as well be her. She had street-meat written all over her perfect smile, but I didn't care. I know as am expressing this thought there are some of you who think this beneath you -dirty.. Like the heat she would give up is any different from that of the purest of untouched. Is skin not skin? I mean, when this obvious street-walker gives up her oils, when it comes secreeting out of minute inexplicable holes there in her skin, will it not wash me the same? Will her wet wet any different from say your own? She licked her lips one last time and that did it.
        "You splashed street sludge all over my pantalones, homie." I knew that would stop our trio and spin them around as well as anything else I could have said. When they turned the girl was still smiling at me. Her male company were not. They had that New York look, like I had just invited them both to mug me. The girl in the middle knew (she) was the subject of my invitation. That's what you get dressing for a hurricane in a camisol and golashes. It left too much of her out there for the rain to beat into, for the wind to blow. I knew well enough to know, her licking her lips at me was her saying (I) was the object of (her) infatuation. Setting her homies straight would have to wait. She told them this when she held them at bay with both her arms raised in a cross. She did the lip thing again.

We spent the next 15 minutes in another kind of dance. Cognizant I am, as am sharing this with you, some of you are indeed disgusted -with my behavior in particular am sure. But what a world this is indeed -the sheep judging the mountain goat. If no one ever steps in front of a speeding bus, then what sensation would they bring to your TV vidbox at 6 o-clock
-sensational. Appreciate this. Please!.. if only for the madness of it. My strokes had been getting up in Street Miss the most. Her acquaintances had taken to casually walking back and forth past our mahem.. like they could care less I was rain-storming. I'd heard coming out of the P.O. building the storm had knocked down some trees, but you couldn't blow faster nor rain harder than I was up in this lip-lickin-miss, and I knew her company didn't know what to do with it -the howling of the wind of it -the destruction they knew I was doing. I mean you can rebuild everything after a storm -reconstruct. But you can't recapture the beauty lost. There's no getting that back. Tweedle and Dee knew this night was taking something from them, they knew their sweet Miss was giving up a part of herself there in the alley as they walked past us -something never to be reclaimed. I think they wanted me dead over it -over the breech. Like my intrusion was indeed too blatant. Well what do you get sandwiching a girl with Angelina Jolie lips, a camisol and golashes walking aimlessly in a storm? I knew who they were to her. I mean I had read that on them. Manipulation ain't easy to miss. For it leaps out at you in the weirdest of places. That's really what her looking back was. She was saying (help) ..calling out to me. Begging me to take her from them.. even if it mean't giving herself to (me). When I was done with her I was going to separate them from something too. As am thinking this out loud am certain some of you are appalled. Like my mischief is indeed too quick, my violence too untethered. All the same my storm (will) rain on Tweedle and Dee when am done. This, for their abuse and manipulation of Miss Jolie Lips.. and them bring her out to work in this hurricane.

Comments · 1

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  • David Dove said...

    I love free-form!

    • Posted 7 years ago