Organic

Light through the white curtains. Close my eyes tighter. "Wake up".

Once, you said my groggy-waking-up voice turned you on, so I'll try it. 

"Its too early", I'm pulling the covers back to my neck.

She replies by laying back down. Our kisses straighten their backs. Stand at attention. Imagine a world where we felt more things like that. 

Wide awake now, we dance and you slowly complicate my morning. I think about oatmeal and how you're going organic. I buy Tripicana and you freshly squeeze. I like Rodizio, and you like Tucanos. We both like Chick-fil-ay (They have organic lemonade). 

It fits, you and me.

In a minute, Paul

XXX

Ashamed
to
realize I may
be dead.


I mean, it's tough. I'm terrible with parties. If I were dead, I don't think anyone would bother telling me. Wandering aimlessly. "You too could be so lucky", the preacher taps a pen across his Bible.



In a minute, Paul

Different

a photo in color

Return Policy

Poured gin in my coffee 10 minutes ago. Sour. The amount of times I’ve sat in my kitchen with a good idea fits on one hand. The amount of times. Amount of times. TIMES. Court is in 20 minutes. I’ve forgotten again. 

 

7 voice mails and 10 missed calls later:

Pinning glares from her end of the court. Next to her attorney, she looks awfully sophisticated. I sign the divorce certificate like I would a receipt. Just making a return, like the sweaters I picked out. She said they were itchy. 

I expect the judge to ask if I’d like store credit or just cash. “I have a list of other women with credentials similar to your ex-spouse”, he would say. I’d ask for cash because I don’t plan on returning.

But he doesn’t ask that and she’s wearing a sweater.

In a minute, Paul

The Night With 3 Stars

If I did happen to be thinking about you, I’d be thinking about you like toilets think about SWASS. Like girls think about baseball pants, yes I’d maybe think about your…

There’s even a chance I could slightly maybe precisely be thinking about you like keys think about getting lost in the purse, like every senior girl thinks about becoming a nurse, like I’d think to rehearse this last verse and whether or not I should curse. Or just roll my eyes.

If I sat down to think about you, I’d think about you like ties think about wives picking them out, (*nervous*) like my dad thinks about my eagle scout, like chopsticks think about Americans and take-out.

You know, it’d actually be funny if I were thinking about you like cheerios think about cholesterol. Or like if I thought about you in general, and I know you think about my pectorals.

There was this one night, it was foggy and we could only see 3 stars, but I thought about you. I actually did think about you. And we thought about each other.  You know, thought about us like lips think about licking, and you said I was unwitting, and your parents thought about our relationship they were forbidding. So we began kissing and I thought about stripping like the movies, and the strap on your tank top was slipping while our fingers were linking and we were rigging the system. Damn the system.

I thought about us like Michael Jordan thought about quitting, like Harold Miner thought about quitting, and I can’t quit thinking about you like the night with 3 stars.

I’m thinking about you like curse.

In a minute,

Paul.

Skanky Underwear

"I hate my widows peak." She says as she pulls her hair back.
"Yeah you should wax it." She looks at me with an amused pout, but here's a tint to her glare that means I've joked too far and she's trying to hide that.

"That's okay I guess, because I can't grow a beard" I say to joke about myself.

"Geeze, Paul. Will you hit puberty already?" She starts, "I'm waiting for your voice to drop." Oh how I want her.

"You should trim your bangs." I say.
"Change your skinny jeans." She retorts.
"Your room smells like canned beans."
She's confused. "But you're congested."
Think fast. "And you took all my Day-quill, you overdose case."
"You hypocrite"
"You pessimist."
"Worrier."
"Twilight fan-girl."
"Fake eyes." (I have contacts.)
"Skanky underwear."
Her brow furrows. "You like my skanky underwear." She's such a tease.
"Over exaggerate." I continue.
"Analysand."
"Foolish."
"Kill-joy." She moves closer.
"Nail-bitter."
"Realist." And closer.
"Dreamer."
"Scared of failure." Closest.

"That's a long list of things we hate about each other." I whisper to her lips.
"Lets make it longer."

She kisses me back.

In a minute, Paul.