hot mama's

we were holding hands
you know:
stupid love things

and i saw him:
out of the corner of my eye, sitting in my damn seat eating at my damn pizza place on my damn corner.
dammit.

it's noy my seat, it's not my pizza place... much less is it my corner... i'm just so used to my past coming back to haunt me after things start running smooth again. i don't even give a damn about him, i just go autopilot into defense mode when my past catches up with me. i didn't think he saw me, but i swear he did. it doesn't matter.

but i was walking around the backside of the egyptian after classes about a week later and i got the very particular feeling someone was watching me.
for christ's sake, i was in the middle of capitol hill and it was still daylight, so of course people saw me, but i had that feeling that someone was watching me, you know? so i threw my bag down and started digging for anything. i sat on the steps and watched the guy who'd been following me a few blocks finally pass.... it wasn't him, he didn't have that feeling, you know?
and then i saw him out of the corner of my eye, just as i finished lighting my cigarette. in a split second it was like i heard every god damned thing he told me in one second. i realized it didn't matter, but i'd cut back a ton since i'd worked with him two years ago.

"shit"
was the only word i could think.
he saw me.
shit.
shit.
shit.
i'd done such a good job staying clear of all the skins i'd shed, and he called my name.
shit.
common courtesy is the devil rooted inside me, and so i stopped to talk.