We were walking to rock star fault
toronto, teen, goldie lookin chain your mother's got a penis letras, kink, for sale, submission, scat, commentary, geeksmake me hot (dot) com, pgs, traffic, television shows, french/appendices/list of authors, vbulletin, bbs, photo essay, fault, metrotimes, a.v. club, And so I kissed you just to confirm we were not asleep. I said, "Perhaps it's always been this way and we've never been in love enough to notice." Later, you said, "Of course it wasn't a dream. rock star When you kissed me I smelt onions." -o0o- I remember rock star when I first met you. Somewhere, sometime in the mid eighties a long time before we rose up slowly. A long time before the phenomenon. But then I don't think I remember the details well at all … yes, I can. Oh yes I can. I think it rock star was someone's 18th birthday party in someone's big yellow house. A house overlooking the beach; a house with a pool and ten pin bowling alley. In the kitchen I found you. You were wearing a hot pink boob tube and aqua, polystyrene bauble earrings. You winked at me. I saw glitter eye shadow. You told me I could call you ‘Chook'. I mouthed those words and put my hands against my sides, stuck my arms out, leant back, extended my neck and flapped. I stared at you smiling and smiled back. You giggled and stretched both arms upwards showing me your shaven armpits in celebration.
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We were walking to digest. We were walking, hand in fault hand, on an autumn fault day, in fault the park, carefree beneath an avenue of overhanging branches. We were discussing your mother, and her problems with the chickens. Then suddenly mid conversation you stopped and you clenched my hand tightly and said, "Look. Look at the leaves." I looked. I saw. I said, "The leaves. The leaves. The falling leaves. This is … just … too beautiful." We stood there gaping like stunned mullets, and we turned around, and turned around, and turned around, again. We couldn't believe our eyes. The leaves. The yellow green leaves were falling as though playfully resisting the inevitable rendezvous with the earth. They were falling too softly, floating down, too slowly, as though taking their time, well aware they were being watched and enjoying the attention. You said, "Wow. Is this a dream?"
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