A new story for a new muse-
I never thought to ask her why she always wore those shoes. I figured she had a problem with her feet or that she was one of those hipster chicks who cruises the flea markets or resale shops in Pasadena or Silverlake for obscurities. All I did know was that every Sunday that little blonde would come racing down her stairs and streak past me with a big blue eyed smile and a bounce in her step. She was goin somewhere sure, but not church? No she was no more the church goin type than I am. Maybe a friend's place or an AA meeting, those freaks always make their appointments on time.. well.. until they don't.
But every Sunday I saw my little bit of sunshine glowing past me as I washed my little car in the parking lot and every Sunday she smiled at me, and I waved back, and every Sunday i looked forward to her smile. In fact I grew reliant on it. I grew needful, to see her trot, her legs passing one before the other in those snug little pants of hers. That hurried way she ran not with anxiety for fear of missing a bus or being late, but rushed with the glee of a child on her way to the toy store with a crisp hundred dollar bill and no stupid grown up to tell her what she can spend it on. She had me, and I knew for sure that she had me one Sunday morning when i got out my soap and bucket and began to fill the bucket with water only to remember that I had washed my car the night before when Donny, spilled his in'n'out milshake on the hood trying to tell us the story of how He nearly beat some kid down in Circuit City for talking shit about Halo 3. Donny's always been full of crap, but he's harmless, well unless there's dairy involved. So yeah, there I was Sunday morning, RE-washing my car, waiting to see my little blonde stranger trot past me with her blue eyed smile, her tight little pants and those odd shoes...
That's it for now, if you like it I'll write you more tomorrow-
I never thought to ask her why she always wore those shoes. I figured she had a problem with her feet or that she was one of those hipster chicks who cruises the flea markets or resale shops in Pasadena or Silverlake for obscurities. All I did know was that every Sunday that little blonde would come racing down her stairs and streak past me with a big blue eyed smile and a bounce in her step. She was goin somewhere sure, but not church? No she was no more the church goin type than I am. Maybe a friend's place or an AA meeting, those freaks always make their appointments on time.. well.. until they don't.
But every Sunday I saw my little bit of sunshine glowing past me as I washed my little car in the parking lot and every Sunday she smiled at me, and I waved back, and every Sunday i looked forward to her smile. In fact I grew reliant on it. I grew needful, to see her trot, her legs passing one before the other in those snug little pants of hers. That hurried way she ran not with anxiety for fear of missing a bus or being late, but rushed with the glee of a child on her way to the toy store with a crisp hundred dollar bill and no stupid grown up to tell her what she can spend it on. She had me, and I knew for sure that she had me one Sunday morning when i got out my soap and bucket and began to fill the bucket with water only to remember that I had washed my car the night before when Donny, spilled his in'n'out milshake on the hood trying to tell us the story of how He nearly beat some kid down in Circuit City for talking shit about Halo 3. Donny's always been full of crap, but he's harmless, well unless there's dairy involved. So yeah, there I was Sunday morning, RE-washing my car, waiting to see my little blonde stranger trot past me with her blue eyed smile, her tight little pants and those odd shoes...
That's it for now, if you like it I'll write you more tomorrow-