THURSDAY: Dying for a Pat


Copyright is held by the author.

If I was a normal girl, I would not talk
to a guy who says that if he was a normal guy,
he would sleep with any woman there was a chance with,
but lately he didn’t feel like it. He felt he needed
a connection. He even said no. Weird.
The mystery of attraction. Like an allergy to feeling empty.
nothing. Lost, lost, lost.
Sort of like a massive dog at the pharmacy at a time
of social distancing, who jumped
on the counter where the cashier was.
“She’s dying for a pat,” the woman said
containing her black beast by the self check-out panel,
“Nobody can give it to her.” Nor can anybody go back
to normal when we slept with the wrong people
and knew it. And didn’t know at all.

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