trust-fund baby

trust-fund baby

"sidewalk chalk"
by:me

Your hair was an uneven mess when you got out of bed. Something about your assymetrical carelessness drew me in even more; those mornings must have made you positive how I was a fool for you. I knew that you knew, but I didn't mind. I gulped down the eight minutes and ten seconds of conversation we shared that morning, agreeing to walk outside for some lunch. We sweated through our black clothes as we walked down the avenue, avoiding skateboarders and important conversation equally. I look at the unfinished sleeves on your arms from time to time, trying to figure out what each tattoo really meant to you, although they were probably all on a whim. I treasure those little parts of you; your caulic or the way you rub your thumbs when you get nervous. We sit at the cafe like so many times before, and you order me cosmopolitan after cosmopolitan. I drink them carefully inbetween conversation, trying not to spill all over myself. I look at you when you aren't noticing, trying to shove a moment into a memory I can conjure up later, like a voicemail or a polaroid. We've had this lunch a dozen times before. The day I am about to end the visit, to fly back to the city of grit and languages, and you stay here in your bed with his irresistability. This lunch occurs the mid-morning after the night spent in your bed, visit after visit. I always thought after every visit, maybe I'd get a step closer to being a girlfriend, even one of distance. Perhaps become something singular and distinct in your life, whose qualities didn't overlap with anybody elses. Although it never happened, you were always just the boy who seduced me on my annual visits to boston, who didn't send postcards in between. As we leave the napkins on the table so improperly, and you hold my back as we exit that cafe -- I imagine that this time will be it. This time you will aggresively gesture me into a phonebooth and kiss me the way you do when I am under your covers naked. That now you will grab my jawbone like a boy who cares and say to me "I love you with all my guts". With an unsteady tilt in my stride, we arrive at our corner. There are so many things I want to tell you here, this is just my life now, but soon it will be ours. Soon there will be discussions of a future beyond your apartment and this avenue. You hailed me a cab, and as it pulled up you kissed my cheekbones. I sit inside of it, my knees slightly shaking, turn around and watch you dissapear behind me.