The Days blend Into Drunk Nights

The Days blend Into Drunk Nights

(title 1_)

i don't know if it was the the air,
or the way the sun came into her small pink room
but it was nice
this small dollhouse, out on a Hollywood vine
despite the fact that hollywood tap water sickened me
and when i awoke,
i felt as if all the blood had rushed to my head
it always took me a minute to regain my balance
i sat in her cat clawed, dog hair covered tattered chair
and drank my coffee
shirt off, shoes off, i didn't want to speak
it was nice
it was almost noon, we had just gotten up
she walked her dog
while i let a mean one go
often, she says small comments with conviction
makes me want to slam the table and scream, "FUCK YES!"
sometimes, her head tilts a certain way, and the light catches her eyes
i become speechless
sucked in and tranced by her vicious look
it strikes me each time
and i am bewildered
and question our existence
question our purpose
the small drafts of air that blow in through the windows while we sleep
as our legs tangle and dance all night
fighting for blanket
then we become sweaty and it feels like velcro pulling away from each other
her hair pressed lightly to her forehead and sweet smell
its enough to fill any mans head with smiles
and
the cat jumps on the bed
and i can feel it rubbing across my legs and arms
purring like it does,
its soft coat against my grainy, hairy legs
and always
i reach out to pet it
and the cat runs away
but i watch him out of the corner of my eye
sneaky cat
i see you
and when i don't look
he comes back and rubs across my feet
its nice
its always nice there