Ramblings for a rabbit

I don’t know what it is about you – but I’m in your zone.

I’m late and have been running around but know it’s you – we’re not expecting any Suddhas. Gawky serious – no smiles at all. There’s still something about you and I don’t really know what it was but I wanted to chat with you.

Those eyes. There’s something there. Isn’t there? They’re just… something pretty. I looked straight and felt a little thrown. Sexy, knowing – damn they’re beautiful.

I try with you and feel like a fool.

‘Can I help’
‘No not really I need to know where everything goes’
Grumpy freak. I leave her to her packing.

On the way home, I think of the most complicated route to get time to chat to you. About the work you’re doing here. How you’re sometimes in the mood for other people and sometimes not. So not an always-nice then. Interesting. I get no vibes but you’re interesting. Very interesting.

The next day - It was so busy – there were other people I was into and they were into me. You watched a kiss. A can’t go further. And took part in a weird three-way paper based conversation on scribble paper with us.

Chain-yanking. The other woman’s into chain-yanking. I’m upset. Really really upset on the way out. And to top it all, we’re listening to my thoroughly depressing CD.

‘What’s this?’
‘Crowded House – they’re a New Zealand band’
‘Never heard of them’
Small drunk voice in the corner – ‘No you’re American, we wouldn’t expect you to know these things’

Damn... Drunk fool.

I liked chatting with you. I sing along tunelessly to the music and try to ignore this other woman whose hands are roaming all over my body. We talk about this shared passion of ours.

We talk about how important it is to do stuff that makes people think – even if there’s only a hundred people who get the message. Who cares? A hundred people who are forced to think. Just think. You then say something to insult me quite terribly but I let it go. I have been behaving exceedingly badly. Not a bad memory for a drunk.

Why is the project so important to me…? I tell you – pretty much everything. Carefully worded but now you know officially. Horses’s mouth and all that. I turn to you – it’s your turn now…

(…something something…)
“You’re straight right?”
Two really big brown eyes look straight back “bisexual”. Almost like a windpipe punch. I didn’t expect that at all. I am looking as couldn’t–care-less, as none-of-my-business as possible. My mind is spinning.

We go dancing and I know someone else is trying to dance with me but you – you’ve got amazing rhythm for a white girl. I don’t mean to be dismissive or rude but really – you dance so well. I only want to be closer. I think I take too many liberties with you and still you don’t push me off. Are you interested? Polite? Amused at how stupid I am? I feel so attracted to you I’m actually embarrassed. I’m a little ashamed of my behaviour also. You probably ditched that kind of dancing ages ago. I hate lovedrunks – the kind that want to want to sleep with you so badly in the night and then don’t want to so much as touch you the next day. I don’t do stupid hook-ups. Whether drunk or sober.

Oh god those eyes. And that mouth. It’s insane that you hide so much. Almost as if you’re ashamed of it but you’re just so beautiful. Fuck.

We’re dropping you home – I can feel her really tense. I know she wishes she could hand you over to the police or the prison so you would just stay away but I like you – you’re chilled out and not pushy and not nice. That’s a compliment from me to you.

This intense, pretty pretty girl is around and she’s cute but acting way too cool. Which means I’ll have to prostrate myself. But I won’t – I’m sorry this is serious no-go zone. I like you loads. If you want come and get. Come please.

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This is from a while ago. A time before.