Saturday, April 25

hotel voulez-vous

so, you said you wouldn't have me, because you didn't know me that well, because you had met me only once. You wouldn't have me home, because it was too far away, because you were not sure. And I couldn't bear the feeling of you thinking of me as one of them, one of those women who car and crash and home and feed and stay. I couldn't bear thinking you might feel I wanted to car and crash and stay. So, I came back to yours one night, the night of the mackerel and mash, going to be simple, the night of the green lentils, when you crushed a whole nutmeg. I had never seen anyone crushing a whole nutmeg before. Your ribs were broken and you were hurting. I wanted to hitch-hike to come quicker, the dog was barking, my anorak was too small and I had no knickers on. You opened the door and said 'Tack your belly in', you said 'tack your belly in, silly girl, yes, yes, that's right, that's better, that's what you need'.

We lied down and fell asleep, you liked to sleep with strangers, one, two or more it depends on the time.

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