Train Wreck Ended By Car Wreck
There was a girl
(isn't there always?)
We met at a party where I was drunk and belligerent.
I usually am with pretty girls at parties who approach me,
I figure life will spoon feed them due to their looks for 30, MAYBE 40 years.
Who am I to perpetrate such a lie?
'You don't need personality or brains.. as long as you have your looks'
I am always belligerent to pretty girls when I am drinking and approached.
To hell with them.
'I'm a witch' she told me.
'We use to burn people like you.'
20 minutes later I was being drug through the party,
vision like a badly done cinema verite film,
towards the front door.
We ended up at her place.
a rat hole apartment
a students apartment.
It was covered with new age 'wiccan' paraphenalia...
ankhs, statues of cats, crystals, a wand I wasn't allowed to touch...
pretty sure if I had been able to it would have read 'made in China' somewhere on it, and plenty of books on the same subject.
She left me alone in that room, I went through her records
you can't judge a book by the cover,
but you can judge a person by their records...
all Enya, P.J. Harvey, Portishead and Coteau Twins.
No Clash
No Miles Davis
This was all I needed to know...
She was not to be trusted.
She unwrapped some tarrot cards gently from a swatch of silk.
She read my cards,
I tried to focus
but the room kept swaying.
as we sat on her floor.
'So, do they say I'm gonna get laid tonight? '
They did,
I did,
I then made up some excuse and staggered home singing
P.J. Hravey's 'Rid Of Me'....
2 weeks later I met her best friend at a bar.
She was wearing a pair of stretch pants that has the word 'slut'
printed all over them,
She wore them well.
'I heard you are a lot of fun.' she said
turning from her mixed drink, flipping her blond hair, she looked at me.
I stared at myslef in the mirror andordered a Bombay and tonic.
for 6 months is was the 'Scarlet and Sheba' routine.
back and forth between the two of them.
This was brought to an abrupt end when a car crashed through the living room wall of the 'witch's' apartment.
'What good is being a witch when you can't even predict when a car will land in your front room? ' I had wonder.
Yes, it all ended
rather
abruptly.
-30-
poem by Brevet Wilson
Added by Poetry Lover
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