The way we were
April 8, 2007
Long lost the ever flatering “She smells like angels ought to smell. The woman. The godess.”
This is blood for blood and by the gallon. These are the old days, the bad days, the all-or-nothing days. They’re back! There’s no choice left. And I’m ready for war.
Modern cars – they all look like electric shavers.
The night’s as hot as hell. It’s a lousy room in a lousy part of a lousy town – I’m staring at a goddess. She’s telling me she wants me. I’m not going to waste one more minute wondering how I’ve gotten this lucky. She smells like angels ought to smell, the perfect woman… the Goddess. Goldie. She says her name is Goldie.
Skinny little Nancy Callahan. She grew up. She filled out.
An old man dies. A young girl lives. A fair trade.
Hell of a way to end a partnership. Hell of a way to start my retirement.
That’s the thing with dames; sometimes all they gotta do is let it out and a few buckets later there’s no way you’d know.
The wind rises, electric. She’s soft and warm and almost weightless. Her perfume is a sweet promise that brings tears to my eyes. I tell her that everything will be all right. That I’ll save her from whatever she’s scared of and take her far, far away. I tell her I love her.
We fucking had it all along. We lost it somehow. We’ve lost Casablanca talking and Sin City talking and long batting eyelashes and sweet talking and romance, real romance, old school romance. We’ve lost it.
Tuesday September 26, 2006 – 07:09pm