are you my mother?

"misery aquaints a man with strange bedfellows." - william shakespeare, to me, during a conversatin we had at prett about my sex life

boogie board, don't boogie board

"you're no angel either, baby"

i remember spending an unremarkable afternoon with you last january.  maybe we ate or got coffee or went shopping for lube together, but i know we split up at bleeker and bowery.  i was going downtown to work at my restaurant and you were headed to the train to go home.  we said goodbye--we probably kissed because we kissed then--and parted ways.  i went south, you west.

i made it about five blocks to houston street before a wall of anxiety knocked me over and i knew that i needed to see you.  like the feeling i got when i was five-years-old and lost my mom on my first and only trip to walmart.  without realizing or consenting, i had become violently alone in a busy aisle full of foreign objects.

i turned around and ran north up bowery.  i got to bleeker where we had separated and took off west in the direction you were walking when you left me.  i remember that day you were wearing a bright red hat or coat or bag becuase i remember frantically scannig the overcast street for something bright red to identify you by.  

up 

over 

down 

over 

back 

across 

back

down 

over 

up 

down

across.

my eyes only fell upon browns and greys and blacks as i began to slow my pace.  you must have turned on a cross street, or maybe you already made it onto the train.

my heart felt like a balloon full of wet sand.  you had disappeared.  and by this point i was running late for work.  i turned around and started back east on bleeker.  i turned south onto bowery toward my restaurant. the feeling aloneness was still sharp, but i knew it would be dulled when we met up at your apartment that evening.

we did, and it was.  

--

today, a woman at work ordered a vegan hotdog to take home to her puppy.  so i've decided to change careers and am going to pursue becoming a puppy.