tigre-piccola

the end of another show, another town, another tour meant another bar. she watched him there, purple sunglasses making dark, blue light that matched his disposition. she started to cartwheel her coaster. frustration breeding unnecessary motion. he called for another refill, another shot to dull brilliance. she found herself wondering why but wishing for a word that didn't bely simplicity. he was loved by all, but none more so than her. who knew so many places could ache. she could stand it no longer, raw adoration drove her to slink towards him, all blue jean baby and slide in beside. he barely looked up and resolution threatened to fade. she

Dear Diary, I ate a sandwich today. I realized for the first time that one does not use a spoon to eat them. I was at the deli and I ordered my usual, a turkey breast with salmon, bacon, and teriyaki sauce, sat down and began to eat, spoon in hand. The man next to me turned and said, "You know… You don't use a spoon to eat sandwichs…" This blew me away. All that I had known: destroyed. My world became swirling mist of the unknown. Every fact I thought I knew suddenly came into question. The way of the universe died that day. The man grew concerned about the glazed look I had while I was shaking uncontrollably in my chair. I snapped to, spo