THREE WAYS TO SAY NO - leesa cross-smith

You listened to too much Eric Clapton. When you walked in the door, I'd hear the opening chords of “Layla” and while you were talking to me, telling me things, I could hear the whole song in my head. All five hundred minutes of it, you asshole. (But I did like that time we got drunk and you walked me back to my apartment. The slip of moon, uphill sidewalks, black-green grass, more sidewalks; a million moth army, more crickets, streetlights. All the girls at my place were playing strip poker and I was glad I wore my pretty bra because I am not very good.)

Allow me this. Eventually you are going to have to deal with the fact that you've been born. But don't worry. Tonight I'm not drunk. I don't drink anymore but I do miss the feeling of closing my eyes and falling back – of loosening my tie. If I wore a tie.

Come on. I am a lioness on a big, hot rock. I told you that.

Leesa Cross-Smith
Fast Machine
Elizabeth Ellen