chiquita

a true lil' story...

There's a man I know. I know him and he knows me better than just about anyone else. I love him. He loves me too, in his own way. Sometimes we touch.

But there's an acute absence of happily-ever-after here. This thing exists in its own vortex, it's own secret place. That used to bother me and I turned away for awhile.

Then I shrugged and laughed and took it for what it is, when it is.

I still pout once every while, though.

He made two bongs and we each painted one and then swapped them so that each has the one the other painted. Kinda sweet, huh?