Friday, 6 February 2009

We Laughed at the Same Thing > M4W >(Thursday outside the Garage, after midnight)

the assignment was to write one in the style of a craigslist missed connection. this one is true, in a non-specific way.

Every time I get off work I think I’ve stopped with girls forever, I just notice the way the street is a sewer after 10pm in that bermuda triangle of chips and styrofoam where Sketty turns into Walter. I saw you by accident, a pleasant surprise in scene-profiling. There was the contrast between the twee scarf and the scuffed cons and you seemed vaguely capable of murder. Or charity work.

So. Definitely my type. . . and obviously you were smoking. You didn’t see me until the couple outside Mr. D’s started yelling at eachother, her an orange lizard in white mini-skirt, him a brick-built cliche, dropping his chips everywhere and never standing on both feet at once.

“Don’t ye fackin’ tells me that! Where was you! Where was you!?”

Outside the Garage where the rockers clustered you shook your head with a smirk. I was wearing the frame of a guy who would like to fall in love but couldn’t be bothered. And a wrinkled black shirt. You looked like every girl I’d ever kissed or wanted to fucked and made babies. And real good in a blue jacket. I’m the guy who laughed with you and tripped over the gum on the pavement on the way to somewhere else.