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She Stole the Blankets, and My Wallet

the darker the bar
the better i looked
a little red light on my face
added some much needed color
at twenty-three i was still learning
how to handle my drinking
and i was learning a lot
i worked back-of-the-house in those days
so there was really no limit
to the quantities i consumed
as a waiter you have to at least look sober
but as a cook
or a dishwasher
you just have to show up
in those days
2 p.m. was morning
as far as i was concerned
i'd only been with a couple women
but i already read most of Bukowski's
and Fante's work
so i knew enough to know
they were not to be trusted
she came over to my table
where i was sitting alone
with a pitcher of Blatz
and she said
"you're depressing me"
i didn't say anything
not because i was cool
or stoic
or anything
only because there was nothing to say
"you should buy me a drink"
i knew she was running one on me
i was her mark
but whatever
i just paid rent
and had a few bucks to spare
a tall whiskey and diet
i brought back to the table
where she was now sitting
with two male friends
it occured to me
that the drink was a ruse
to gain access to the table
since the bar was crowded
"these are my roommates"
she said
along with their names
but i already knew who they were
they were both hipster musicians
whose bands both sounded like
knockoffs of The Pixies
i didn't know their names though
and didn't want to
but her name was Monica
and i liked that because it made me think
of California
and i always thought i should have been born in California
and i should have been taller
and i should have had a bigger dick
i sat there quietly while hipster-dudes
shared musings about their latest gigs
"are you a musician?"
Monica asked me
"are you an artist?"
"well, this is Riverwest
you have to be something"
she was kinda right
no one lets you sign a lease in Riverwest
unless you're some kind of struggling artist
"i know"
she exclaimed
"you're a poet"
"fuck no"
i said
last call bounced on us
the ugly lights came on
and the doorguy came through
yelling for everyone to drink up
Monica and the two hipsters went outside
and i went to take a piss
i figured that was a nice thing to do
give them a chance to leave without me
and not have it be awkward
but when i got outside
she nearly jumped in my face
"what are you doing now?"
"i'm gonna go home
and drink some more"
"can we come?"
"there's not enough for four"
"is there enough for me?"
so she went home with me
in spite of her hipster-dudes
advising her against it
"he's not even a musician"
they rebuked her
when we got back to my place
she had a good laugh over all my guitars
drawings on the walls
and books of poetry
and she could fuckin'drink
twenty year old women
they're so tiny
and innocent looking
but she drank more beer than i did
i'd like to say the sex was amazing too
but i had some trouble drawing my weapon
and fired it off almost as soon as i did
we drank more beer after that
the sun came up
the beer ran out
and we passed out
i had only been with a couple women
so it was nice to feel a warm body
as i drifted into sleep
a few hours later
i woke up freezing
seeing that she'd stolen all the covers
and cocooned herself in them
grateful she was still there
i just grabbed my coat from the floor
and went back to sleep
the next time i woke up
it was to the sound of her
quietly pulling my apartment door closed
behind her
i got out of bed
saw my jeans draped over the edge of the futon
and felt my wallet was gone
because of my o.c.d.
i only had as much cash in there
as i had planned to spend the night before
all she got was seven bucks
and my i.d.
i was mostly pissed about the i.d.
but not even too mad about that
it seemed worth it
to remember what it was like
not to fall asleep alone

Thanks to 9

3 Aug 17

Rated 10 (10) by 2 users.
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I read this right to the end...I enjoy this sort of confessional feel type of poetry at times.

Ah. The things we do in youth, eh :-)

Engaging throughout. Thanks.
 — PollyReg

Lots of guts in this.
And a little blood too.
I was so much wanting it to lift at the end,
and it did. :)
Great piece Danny.
And great to see you again.
 — 9

Thanks, polly and 9!
 — dannyprice