i found my notebook -- it was buried under some crap next to the tv. i don't know how it got there, but there it was. just as i was so frustrated at the clutter and the fact that i can't fit through the space between my boxes of books and the bed. so here's some things.
she: wild animal hair, kinky like hot sex and aimless eyes. perched on the edge of an asphalt river, ready to merge but not sure which way to go. worn black shorts fall to the worn black knees and a loose worn black blouse is held tight by a brand new neon New Kids on the Block fanny pack.
he: feels bad about being racist; a product of the squeeze between affirmative action groups excluding him for being a middle/upper class white male and the moral majority that says that RACISM IS WRONG.
she: on side of dirty pool with baby blue capris rolled up above the knees; legs in the pool to sooth cracked heels -- dry like paper from early time. reading; it starts to sprinkle, like sand falling on tin. falls on pool and she sits, waiting before preserving her book and retreating.
he: mid-20s, short maybe slavic -- black hair and eyes, pot belly, lots of hair all over. sleeps in old boxers -- holes in them -- same ones he wears for days. sleeps on stomach, thumb in mouth just slightly, drooling on wrinkled flowered sheets and wrinkled flowered pillowcases. the tip of his penis peeks through the hole in his boxers. sleeps diagonally on bed, no comforter, sheets tangled in his feet.