I’m at work early today because we are going camping tonight and this weekend for Pat’s birthday. Our friend from Missoula who was also crazy enough to move to the East Coast is coming in on a bus from NYC. She picked a better East Coast, but then again I have the Poconos close and she doesn’t.
I’m eating a bagel, I haven’t had a bagel in so long. SUPERONION – it might make me sick, but I’m going to keep eating it and drinking strong coffee and listening to the air being forced into this building. I hear it buzzing above me like bees and I lick my finger, carve my teeth under my nail and I taste my perfume. It tastes how it smells – hint of oranges, but with an undercurrent of rubbing alcohol. I wonder if that’s how I taste to pat when he kisses my neck.
There’s a building on Main street named Virginia. I wonder if it’s after the state or a woman. She looks old and stately and rises high above the disheveled bricks below her. She watches almost like the moon. The moon last night hung contented. She was filing her nails, sipping wine. She was the woman who walks in a room all dressed in black and still glowing.
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