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love by the light of the taco bell drive thru before/after I don't know, baby, I didn't kill myself because I thought of reincarnation, and that I might miss you in the next life, or the one after that. I din't want to wait around for a thousand years for us to sync up again. Iffn' I only have you for a few years in each life, then maybe that's wuth it. Maybe its wuth it awlll. Then again, I don't really know if I believe in wholesale reincarnation anyway. Enlightenment, sure, some assholes have been workin' their way back to bugs since the beginnin' a' time. ----- I told a young girl in the taco bell drivethrough she was sexy. This is such a dirty confession, although chaste. Anyway, I was on a roll with some insane confidence. I flirted with the fat girl clerk behind me at the goddam supermarket store, "No Shoplifting," I said and she bantered back. As they all do. "I'll keep an eye on myself." she said. A few lame questions later, ("Oh? Do you have to bust yourself, too? You do? " 'I have to turn myself in. I hate it when that happens' "Damn kleptomaina") She pushed her shit up on the rolling lane. "I'm not going to buy any of your groceries" I said, "Our relationship just isn't to that point yet." The check out clerk gave a look at the healthy butterball behind me and they tittered. Then the clerk got into the game, and played at giving away my food. Hadn't anticipated that. So I took it to the next grocery store, not finding all the stuff I wanted. In line, waiting. Clerk picks up the service phone. "He's here," she hurriedly and surreptitiously whispers into the phone. After years of drug abuse, crimes uncounted, now being square, it finally all caught up to me. Motherfucker. What are the odds. So, I had to ask. "Are you talking about me?" I asked, "Are you talking about me?" Just waiting for The Man to swoop out of the rafters with a big net and a gross of tranquilizer darts. However it goes down, its going to be ugly. The clerk shot me a look. (those clerks! those goddam clerks! what the fuck? Breed em' strange on the checkout aisle these days) "Yes." she said conspiratorially. "I knew it." I said, "I haven't even done anything yet." She looked around like she was telling me a huge assed secret. Everybody thinks their attractions are huge assed secrets. Get it out in the open, I say. See what the fuck happens. When it comes to fuckin' around, I don't fuck around. "No." she thought about it, "There's this guy that comes in here quite frequently, that she's...innarested in." "Is it me?" I asked. "I've never seen you in here before." she said. "I've been in here many times." I said. "Oh, really." she said, and picked up the service phone. "The guy in 2 wants to know if its him." I heard a shriek from the service desk, and turned towards it. I pantomimed, pointing at me the way I learned in acting class, I knew it would come in handy sometime, "Is it me?" She shrieked again and blushed like true blue. "I'm so embarassed." she said as she hung up the phone. Embarassed about what? How do you know if you don't try? You're not going to get the good ass with an attitude like that. Put it the fuck out there, see what happens. Any other way, I don't know. Besided, the worst in the end is just another asshole saying no, and we all get told no on a daily basis for more and less. Putting it in a slightly differen' cast, Vince DeGogh's chick kept his ear. How's a trick like that treat ya? Married the other fella', and din't even give the ear back. That's motherfuckin' rejection. And I simply must quit with the italics. So I'm swinging it and feeling lucky. Lucky like a punk. And the girl in the taco bell drive through is seventeen, eighteen, nineteen. I don't know anymore, they all look so tabula rasa tasty. Skin like milk and untainted eyes. Unjaded and cute cute cute! But anyway. She had a choker on. A little black jobby that I just like on my women. Most chokers are cool, but black choker to me is pavlov' sex, right up there with fuck me red lipstick, blue fingernail polish, smart girls and left handed skillfull hand jobs. So I wanted to tell her she was cute. Or I thought she was cute. Sometimes these things are in the eye of the beholder. I wanted to give her a compliment. Make her feel good about herself. Share and spread the love. The positivity, the plus sign, the good karma, the warm fuzzy, the happy vibe sans hookers and bad debt. No blow, just good feelings, because everybody finds love in a three day vodka and rich snot binge, but it ends when the bullets' empty. Or the packet. Or the booze. Whatever I mean. Whatever. And they fucked up my order. She went and straightend it out. "Is that a choker you're wearing?" I asked. "Oh, this?" she said, thumbing at it, "Yeah, its nothing special." And I wanted to tell her I thought she was cute, just a nice, friendly exchange, but you women, you just pull it out of me, like cash, love, and wads of cum. I bleed my life away and nobody loves me for it. My tears fall in front of blind eyes. "I like it. Its sexy." I drawled. Whoops, and motherfuckin' whoops. Line and crossed line. Sometimes these things can go south. She glowed. She positively glowed. "Thank you." she said, and handed me a napkin and a straw in a dainty, almost doting way. The cute way that girls have in their movement when you've given them a compliment they like. The things that make me love them. I gave her eye contact. Her eyes were wide and fixed on me, as if to solidify the moment in her memory forever. The time when a guy in a suave coat said she looked sexy in a taco bell drive thru. I should be going to hell soon, in a puff of brimstone and moral impropriety. Its all legal, just not fair sometimes. Such is life, and it goes around. I felt like a dirty. A dirty old man that likes young girls. At least I made her happy for a moment.
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