This is verbatim from my voice recorder, recorded right down the road after it happened. More spoken word than writing exercise; I did not have the heart to change anything; it made me laugh too much.
This one\’s for the cute raver boy at the bus stop, with the orange pants and the yellow t-shirt. The one with the shaggy hair cut and the visor.
I rolled up to the red traffic signal with my windows down, Gus Gus playing on my car stereo, and he broke into a dance and he said Thank you, I needed that. I laughed — I couldn\’t help myself.
I knew that if I ducked my head down and invited him into my car, asked him if I could give him a ride, it would be the start of a whirlwind romance.
You know the kind — where I sacrifice everything to spend all my free time to give him rides so he won\’t have to take the bus and he introduces me to all the great new music coming out of small cold northern European countries on white label twelve inch vinyl, because he is, of course, the kind of person who buys white label twelve inch vinyl.
I spend all my extra cash going to all the hush hush exclusive parties in little shacks or rat infested abandoned warehouses in the middle of urban plight — or even better, in the middle of College Park or somewhere out in Northern Virginia where the cops never bother to break anything up. And you know, we have fun!
And we do too many drugs, and before you know it, it\’s all based on sex and drugs and music and before you know it, it\’s just really, it\’s just really…
it\’s just really cute.
But I get to keep his big orange pants, which really has no relevance because once we stop dating and we fall out of love I stop wearing them, because no one looks good in big orange pants, least of all a white girl with a big ghetto booty like myself.
And all these thoughts have occured to me in the blink of an eye, and just as I am saying to myself oh, what the hell, it\’ll be fun and it\’s been a while since I fit two people in one pair of pants, the light changes to green. Green means go, and I go go go, pull my head up, give a little wave, and leave my next love at the bus stop with my heart, still dancing to Gus Gus, my teenage sensation, grooving in his big orange pants.
Somehow I think I\’ll get over the loss, but it was good while it lasted.
