yo, that's wack if i'm not the baddest


profile * old * mail * fucking sign it* or how about a nice note? you go forward / i'll go backwards


exboy of my dreams has a toothy grin and a stack of silver dollar pancakes in front of him. he holds the syrup container like his hand is his foot. he leaves sticky little finger prints on my face when he reaches across to push an eyelash away. he doesnt say make a wish and it falls on the table and i wonder if the older waitress will vacuum it up tonight and throw it away tomorrow morning, i hate to think of it in a landfill so i set it on the window sill between a cobweb and a few dusty dead bugs and worried that all of my eyelashes might fall out. i write a check for 17.23 and he leaves the tip. he clicks his tongue and drops two dollars and i whine that its not enough. driving through traffic he accelerates too quickly and hits the back of a dump truck. i shriek. not pregnant, not pregnant at all.
d-land