Tuesday, April 21, 2015

Angels....

That Ed Sheeran song.

The one about crack.

About the angel.

I sat in the parking lot of the public library... the dark, damp garage

And I cried.

I was the strange man who'd left my scent, who'd achieved a release

I was on top of her

And then I was not

And there was an envelope and a smile

I don't know what she needed

I don't think it was drugs

It didn't matter

she was always clean and had a job

But she needed something

And invited me in once a week

I guess there were probably others

I was an 11 AM on Thursday

Maybe it was just me

Maybe what was in the envelope once a week was enough

I cried

Because rather than connect with a real human... rather than dig in and open up

I paid for time

for the use of her

she was generous with her time... there wasn't a limit once I arrived

Except one time when her roommate texted to say she was leaving class early

Then I had to go

I learned from her

And she said it helped

The envelopes

And she seemed to enjoy our time

But when she messaged me once and said: "I just want to fuck you."

I thought: she needs some money.

And it became messy in my mind...

More than a transaction but less than a friend

She had a boyfriend.

A guy I'd known a few years back, but hadn't seen in some time

We talked about him once

And about how important it was for this to be quiet

A secret

A day in the week that was our time

And I wondered if they did the things we did -- she and her boyfriend

And I wondered if she liked his fucking better than mine

And I wondered what it would be like ... to be her boyfriend instead of a day on her calendar

And I cried

Because I couldn't imagine this being what she really wanted... a boyfriend and a man who met her once a week

That her need was so bad she'd provide this service no matter what else

Or was she lonely, too?

Was there more than a transaction for her after a time?

She moved.

On with her life.

Miles away.

I wished her a Merry Christmas... she wished me a Happy New Year

And that was the last we corresponded

But one day. After we were together.

I went to the library

And I heard that damn song

And I cried

No comments:

Post a Comment