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Hip hop videos too raw to be shown during normal business hours. An hour long reel of twenty first century blackploitation flics. Sat and passed a joint, pointed and laughed at the screen. Adam the apostate, half caste, mongrel Jew from a Lilt white Long Island Township.Įvery night between three and four AM, we sat on the edge of his bed. Tofu, soy burgers, since renounced, scraped from the palate into the trash. Who still stank of two years' worth of vegan dishes. Adam whose stubbly face and fear of women I admired. Chestnut eyes flickering behind rectangular lenses. Who still had the stick figure legs that wobbled under his squared and bulked upper torso. And next to his bed the protein packed ammunition that he mixed and gulped down after his workouts. One bicep barbed with wire, the other winged by a medieval dragon. His arms, turrets, loaded and cocked, jutting out a white tank top. Fingers jittery, teeth clattering.Īdam on his bed smoking, and I am next to him. While the coffee machine dripped, dropped, and spit steam, I sat on the couch rolling a cigarette. Four day's stacked dishes in the sink -plates, forks, knives, spaghetti strands, and two sodden cigarette butts. The living room floor, sticky and strewn with ash. I plodded down two flights of stairs into the living room. Out the second story window car lights speared the dark in route for the highway. I crawled out of bed, dug the grime out my eyes, and slipped on my glasses. Three days of barely throwing water on my stoned face. Three days without showering, three days of caked sweat inside my shirt, in between my thighs. Face mottled with pimples, nappy beard sprouting on my neck. I woke in my room between four walls, off white. Flat ass the bottom of my father's flat feet, fifteenth century fall of the end of the earth flat. Flat as a pancake, a fly smashed against a white wall. Her hands squeezing my ass, urging me deeper, harder, while I clamped my eyes and thrust and imagined I was fucking someone else, a little prettier with perkier tits and not such a flat wisp of a Wasp ass. Amy in her blue jogging shorts, stretching in front of the mirror, while I tumbled back to sleep and missed another class. Amy in her knee length skirt, adjusting herself in the mirror, while I squirmed in the moist bed, still sweaty from stank breath morning sex. Amy, her eyes cartoon blue, devil in a blue jogging suit blue, West palm white sky beach blue, a father who loved Churchill and George W., blue.