Learning How to Smile
Waiting
We didn’t find a hotel. We didn’t find a bed. We found a couch, though: an old, worn, ragged, torn and jagged couch.
We also found some people. It was these people who led us to the couch. They also let us to drugs. They’re bad people, but in a good way. They’re bad, good people: very, very much.
I look up at you, because for some reason I don’t quite remember, I’m lying in your lap. You took your shirt off. The sweat on your bare chest is glistening.
I look over at the table and watch the flame of the candle burning. It’s so bright. It makes me go a little blind.
Someone suddenly thrusts a spoon in over the flame, cutting it in half. The spoon is black and silver – black where it’s gotten burnt so many times now.
Someone waves a five dollar bill in front of me, but I barely see it because of me being a little blind.
I sit up, taking the bill in the process. The white powder is lined up beautifully on the table, and for a second – a long second – I want to lick it up instead of sniffing it.
I take too long and you take the bill. You snort a line and I watch in fascination as it disappears from the table. I’m always amazed by that sight.
You hand the bill back over, looking at me briefly with huge, glazed-over eyes.
I do as you did, and I fly away even more than I did before. I drown in the ocean of swirling circles and sharp edges. I get hit by a bus filled with all different kinds of emotions; and I enjoy them all. I just enjoy not being bored. I enjoy being lost and out of control, waiting for someone to save me.
We also found some people. It was these people who led us to the couch. They also let us to drugs. They’re bad people, but in a good way. They’re bad, good people: very, very much.
I look up at you, because for some reason I don’t quite remember, I’m lying in your lap. You took your shirt off. The sweat on your bare chest is glistening.
I look over at the table and watch the flame of the candle burning. It’s so bright. It makes me go a little blind.
Someone suddenly thrusts a spoon in over the flame, cutting it in half. The spoon is black and silver – black where it’s gotten burnt so many times now.
Someone waves a five dollar bill in front of me, but I barely see it because of me being a little blind.
I sit up, taking the bill in the process. The white powder is lined up beautifully on the table, and for a second – a long second – I want to lick it up instead of sniffing it.
I take too long and you take the bill. You snort a line and I watch in fascination as it disappears from the table. I’m always amazed by that sight.
You hand the bill back over, looking at me briefly with huge, glazed-over eyes.
I do as you did, and I fly away even more than I did before. I drown in the ocean of swirling circles and sharp edges. I get hit by a bus filled with all different kinds of emotions; and I enjoy them all. I just enjoy not being bored. I enjoy being lost and out of control, waiting for someone to save me.