Shree

At the time, all I could think about was how much my life sucked.

No money. No job. No girl. Oh for three.

It couldn’t have gotten much worse. Or so I thought.

“Are you ready to have sex?” Raina had just burst through the door, tears falling down her face. This is all she said to me. No “hi, sorry I left a bitchy note, let’s patch things up.” Just a request for sex.

But that was fine by me.

So I walked over to her and started kissing her, ready to begin a session of hot sex. We’re kissing, feeling each other up, but then all of a sudden she pushes me away. She looks at me coldly for a second. Fuck, I’m thinking, what did I do this time.

But then she spoke. “Do you want to have kids? That’s what this comes down to, Shree. I know things are rough, but I want to use our relationship as the one source of stability in our lives. So I need to know.”

I really just wanted to fuck the shit out of her. “Um, I’ve been thinking about it.” Acquiesece, Shree, acquiesce.

I could feel the tension in her heart rise. “What’s that mean?”

I looked at her carefully. This was the best I’d felt in a long time, just having her here so close to me. “Okay. We can try.”

Jackpot.

She started getting real fucking wild with me, as we’re standing there in our unfurnished kitchen. God it was intense.

So we’re running around the kitchen, groping and kissing each other like it’s going out of style. But, well, not everything was perfect.

The minute we started getting hot and heavy, I knew it was going to be a problem. But it was so nice to have her back, I didn’t care.

Of course, she did. So after a while, she looked down.

Some things never change.

She didn’t even say a word. She just sat there with this hurt look on her face. Like I was doing it intentionally.

And then she just got up and left. Just like that. Like nothing had even happened at all. She put her clothes on and walked out the door, without even saying a word.

I lit a cigarette and just sat there, naked. Crying. I wanted some release, so I started writing a poem. Of course I didn’t have any paper, so I wrote it real small on a napkin.





I might be poor. I might be impotent. I might be lonely. But hey, I’m still clever.

Of course, a silly little poem wasn’t going to solve any problems. I needed some support, so I pulled out my lap top and sent an e-mail to Maxwell. I wanted to call him, but who knows what kind of chaos that could cause.

So I sent him a short e-mail. And then I sat there, still naked. Somewhere along the line I fell asleep.