wishful thinking

despite my general disinterest in sex lately, yesterday MattE and i fucked. it felt wonderfully dirty and spontaneous. he squeezed and sucked my breasts, and i told him "i'm close" moaning before i slow to the soft, deep breaths that precede orgasm. "cum for me." almost instantly, i'm engulfed in an orgasm more intense than i've ever previously experienced with another person. i giggle softly when i try to talk for several minutes after.

*       *        *

"tell me you want to make love to me."
"i want to make love to you" boone says, "in fact, i want us to fall in love."

he asks me to move in with him, which is a ridiculous.

but i'm interested more for the sake of understanding this life style. or at least, what it's like to be in your mid thirties and to still have blue hair, and to want to spend most of your time with a girl who, not only "looks sweet and innocent but [is] actually a nasty, dirty, little s**t" but also kind of hates you.

"why won't you spend most of your time with michele?"
"she's busy with her new girlfriend and boyfriend."

sometimes i have little flashbacks to very tender moments, but they're rare, and, the lingering leaves a bad taste that makes me die a little.

*        *        *

maybe i'm just writing out of habit now, because the idea of being "understood" or whatever-- i've given up on it. it doesn't seem to matter really. today i was stocking bottles of juice and i realized i wouldn't want to date an abused person because they seem weird so much of the time.

*         *         *

goodmorning young miss!
says the neighbor from across the street. it's early enough in the morning that the sun doesn't shine right on my head, and i wonder why these people are up and sitting in lawn chairs in their driveway. i wave and say something back, but it's short and i can't remember. just that i felt tired. i've dreamt of you two nights in a row, first night you called, second night i saw you and i also watered my dying basil plant that, in the dream, perked up pretty quickly after that.

the problem with neighbors across the stret isn't so much the neigbors themselves but rather the light they keep on the front door all night that shines through my curtainless window onto my frequently naked body. i like the nudidty and feeling my own skin touch itself.

i have to make my way around in the dark or if i feel like reading in bed, undress beneath the covers. the wiggling makes for an awkward, but perhaps delightful sight to certain on-lookers who wander around the yard with a fishing ple at strange hours of the night.

if i die, know i loved you.