Notes &
Her skin wasn’t spanish and she had bits of twilight in her darker than night hair. Her dress was tight enough to see the boning of her corset and was short enough to see where her stockings hooked. I approached her like I said I would to at least one girl. I grabbed her side, touched her face and said hi. I kissed her and she showed me what her tongue can do.
She smoked in my car and after we had sex she talked to me about Nietzsche with mimes, sounds and ums. Her books were read because they were bought for half price. She wanted to prove she was smart with misunderstandings and links made in her mind with ecstasy tunnels. I think about her. I hope she becomes the girl she wanted to be. I’m still a writer with no money.