Little Nuggets that Look Like Girls
Sitting on my own eating gravel nuggets of anything that would be considered warm and moist. I eat them up one at a time. I slowly look at each one without much idea of what their description might entail. I.e. I have no idea what I'm looking at, and still I have the desire and the want to eat them and taste them. I want them inside of me. I want them to be a part of my life and to swim around in me hopefully wanting to do something wonderful to me. Maybe there's a eutopic arena of little baubles that I have picked up and eaten over the years. They are all inside of me and are fortifying theories on how to do something glorious. What glorious thing? Who knows? Who cares really?
I was sitting there on my own as usual. My hands were on my hand rubbing my brow because it feels good. It' feel like stretching the plastic off a brand new received package. It feels like my head is being relieved and cleaned of everything that it has to deal with. I rub and look and rub and look. There is no bottle of booze or drag of smoke that will take anything away from the thought of her. That burning thought that can be so wonderful and somehow confusing. All women are confusing. All women are trouble. All women are work. That's what makes them beautiful. That's what makes you eat gravel nuggets and that's what makes you want to not know really know what you are eating. They are them.
