Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Yesterday, while I was jogging, it began to rain and I realized the reason I’ve been so angry is because I am not real.

I’m jealous of people
who grew up
in log cabins, or
foreign countries,
of people interested
in tree frogs.
I’m jealous of people
who get blowjobs
in the car,
only because
it would be nice
knowing someone
that well.
I’m jealous of people
who date ugly girls.
I imagine it is like owning
a handful of diamonds,
like visiting palaces
of refracted light.
If I were an ugly girl
for just one day,
the first thing I’d do
is masturbate.
Sometimes, I think that’s
about as real
as it gets.

3 comments:

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  2. I just wanted to recomment that comment: Reminded me of Bukowkski, really liked the ending, but when I thought about it you don't have to know someone at all to have them give you a blowjob in the car like hookers or that woman that died in the car with Ted Kennedy.

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  3. I specifically mentioned couples because the idea isn't about being jealous of the blowjob, per se, but of the intimacy in a relationship where vehicular blowjobs are a fun and frequent thing.

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