Posted: October 28, 2010 in transliteration

I am waiting for the mail.

“How often do yo do this?” I asked you, and you responded that you did this all the time. It was the first time for me, and I followed you down the pavement towards the water. We were alone in the woods; two strangers.

I met a man in Chicago once that told me that he liked to get high, dress up in girls’ clothing, semi-suffocate himself, while jacking off all at the same time. I responded quietly that, that seemed like it would take a lot of effort and coordination.

Totally worth it though, he’d assured me with his mind going somewhere else, riding the waves off into distant times. He looked me over, huddled in a blanket curled up in a chair and pondered aloud why he felt comfortable telling me such an intimate thing about himself. This was our first time meeting after all.

I thought about how people tell me this kind of shit all the time. I thought about how I hadn’t bothered to put any effort forth to get off in a long time, but I didn’t share. I just met his gaze with silence for a moment and then offered: “Maybe complete strangers are less intimidating to you, because you’re impartial to the judgments of those you’ve never met, don’t know and never have to meet again.”

“You’re not complete.”

Well…I’m not sure that was the point I was attempting to make at the time, but I couldn’t argue either. I thought about sitting with that guy while I followed you down toward the water. We weren’t complete either, walking together. Strangers. You kept texting and talking about inconsequential things. I stopped listening and stopped short to watch a knot of snakes unravel and slither away.

You had something to say about them, but I didn’t care. Your chatter had no substance, and my mind no matter. We stood silent staring off into the water for a few minutes when we reached the edge. I’m sorry. I’d become unresponsive by then.


I was listening to the water.

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