Ongoing sporadic journal of the overeducated, and underemployed. The title derived from Coupland’s description of cubicle land; the corporate ghetto. Random photos and thoughts. Left the ghetto, never happier. This still a work in progress

06 January 2017

About Last Night
    “She’s so obvious, you like that?” Zoe asks sullen shaking her whiskey rocks at me.
“I look at Savannah drink her. Makeup hair flawless. Tall thick hair framing a lovely face. Savannah gives us a smile. Zoe wraps an arm around me in a gesture that speaks more of possession than it does about affection.
*******************
           
I flash on last night, “I can’t talk to you when you’re like this” Zoe accusing.
    “Like what?” I answer downing my drink. Looking into Zoe’s pale blue eyes she is interrogating me silently Finally she says” Flirting with Bimbo in the 6 inches red fuck me pumps, high as all fuck I see a strangers face, not the one I trust.”
I    “I just hello, as she walked past me at the bar. “ I answer.
    “You casually raised an eyebrow and that suggestive smile, as you brushed by and sent a few sparks.Now I am watching you watching her watching you.  In case you forgot I am not so hard to look at, and my breasts cost less than hers. What exactly are you on so I can tell the EMT’s?”
 “Nothing hard, gin some Kush, and think that's it I drove here,” I answer.
******

“”I like you remember?” I answer.
”Last night, I left there was your chopper, and I remember trying to figure out which car was Miss Stray Pussy?” I knew you were mad and she was into you I am surprised she can walk today.
“Sssh, I say putting my finger on her lips. I grab the back of her head and kiss her.
“Let's quit talking about last night, and go some place.
“She isn’t me just a pale pretender. When I am done with you will have no memories of last night.

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