Plane Mate
Granola and Banana. A much better choice than the disaster that occured yesterday. I�m tired of eating other peoples food. Where I haven�t lifted a finger to cook in months and the water is even beginning to taste stale. I escaped yesterday. I had to walk and get the sad food vibe out of me. It was wind in hair and smooth in my face.. but the terrible gnawing in my throat to make myself throw up. But I guess that�s not natual either. My reflex muscels are way too powerful, maybe from all that deep throating. But its impossible to make any food come up unless I�m drunk, freaking out on green brownies, or I have a terrible flu.
My host mum�s birthday is today and I still haven�t gotten word for my next one, even though I�m supposedly moving in 6 days. THis is what sucks with Rotary. They are a great club but has no idea what its like to be inside of. Me so I nod my head, wait patiently.. it�ll come, it�ll come. Just nothing is garunteed these days. Dying for a simple routine. The longest routine I�ve had here has lasted three days. Not to get too close to anything. MY pisces fish sure has gotten in the practice of catching the flow.. but my taurus is tired of having to swim all day, getting caught up in the stream and wants to sleep on a land floor for once.
But I think of others in my sleep. and not once have I woken up and thought that I was at home. That�s where I�ll be in exactly 3 months. Back on the plane, and the only thing I have wished for is to meet a really hot man that will sit next to me on the 10 hour plane ride back. He�ll be hot, and smart, and cool. And have amazing lips ready to ravish. And I�ll make him mine on that plane trip. He will hold my hand and give me his shoulder to sleep on. We can make fun of the people sitting around us.. because we know that we�re absolutely untouchable when together. Me and him. MY plane mate. It�ll be liek we�re engaged and the flight attendants will ask when the date is. We�ll just laugh then proceed with deep tongue kisses, lip tugs and smooth feeling hickeys. THe kind that get there and you have no idea becasue they felt so good even though they bruised so deep.
When we land in Dallas he�ll still be my lover, but the kind you�ve had after two years. We�ll go for lunch and talk about politics and people as if we�ve had the same life for years with all the same people and things. He�ll do something cute that I�ve always liked... like moving his lip slightly to the side when he is interested. Then I will want to devour him in a kiss. And there we will kiss, a new kind of deep kiss. The kind where two lovers know it will only lead to the bed. Moan. Deep. Then, ``what�s your name again?��
Then out of that world, with a new name that is new on my tongue. He�ll walk me to my gate, we�ll say goodbye and it�ll be done.
Then back home,I�ll get off the plane in my blue Brasil shirt, with the number 10 on the back. The shirt I wear just to say, ``today, I�m number 10��.. but the shirt that also makes me look like I�m ten.
I�ll pass pomade through my new cut hair. Half afro soft curls. Dangling earings that pass down my neck, at the end are little hearts with arrows that go straight through. I�ll smile real big give the best hugs and kisses, then step without a care in the world of the tenis ball sized hickeys on my neck.
Monday, Mar. 26, 2007
4:15 p.m.
4:15 p.m.