Coco
You’re actually a lot more approachable than you look, Coco told me while his muscles clung tightly to his bones. It’s the eye area. The eye area looks far more intense than the mouth speaks. The mosquitoes arrived with the moisture in the air, kissing flesh and leaving welts. While my eyes stared dark, there was a French man throbbing still in my underpants, an Italian man wrapped with long, heavy limbs around my heart. This night is a throw away, I thought after ordering the same beer he ordered to add to the plot. I am here to write about the others, to write about how they did it to me and where, and you are here to do it too perhaps, though the scope of the work is too broad. Interrupt the writing of the others to become one of the others, or walk away now Coco, walk away to your room, do a yoga pose, it will offer you more peace than me. My mother is a Buddhist he says like a parrot, his blue eyes sparkling.
Comments