Friday, 29 June 2012

Deviant's 3

We walk out of the bar and everything closes at six it’s not about being kicked out but more like everyone getting a last drink to moisture the throats before the first morning bus and how it will hurl you across all the rings on the roads and we don’t get kicked out instead the door lure you out and everyone stands in a line smoking watching the busses crawl with the taxis and the people awake to work on a Sunday and I look at Kessler walking back home in his heels.

People are right we are weird and we dance a fucking lot.

I look at Carlos and he smiles at me, laughs and takes me under the hand, tugging me further into the orange morning moon light as it’s our turn to wait for the bus and he sits on the pavement not on the floor and we wait for the third 2 and hop on eventually and he seems softer with all the stubble and two yawns and I press my head against his shoulder.

“You don’t like Kessler, do you?” He asks soft, smelling of alcohol and sleep and he raises my chin to kiss me and his tongue creeps in and I grope him as we stand and we fall and we get kicked out so we wait another three busses, a few hours and we get the same driver so Carlos just flips and we end up on board, passing the houses, the streets, the people and the awkward smiles and Carlos just doesn’t mention the kiss or the grope, instead we walk out, buy ice cream and push ourselves out of it on the road we walk to get back home to the dogs.

Carlos has two dogs and a rug, they both grin at you.

Deviant's 4

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