tuscaloosa > personals > missed connections


First Day - UA Campus m4w

Date: 2010-08-11, 9:03AM CST

The professor said to take out something to write with and I did not have anything to write with. Today, I did not have anything to leave a mark. I would use something sharp to carve my name into the desk but I have lost the key to my apartment. This is fine--I did not know how to open the door anyhow; I did not know which way to turn the lock. There is a hole in my pocket and I lost the key. I cannot wear these jeans anymore: this is why I am wearing this pair of jeans. I am sure you noticed. I am sure you noticed that I am wearing these shoes and not those shoes. I tell you about my troubles: how I am always prepared, how I am good at opening doors. I offered to hold open a door for you in exchange for something to write with: you can name the door. I would suggest the door at a restaurant: those doors are heavy--they swing with such force. All of the places where I have a meal have no doors, no windows. My apartment I cannot enter has three windows--one faces the street, one faces my neighbor's house, and one faces my neighbor's house. I am not good at opening windows: the motion of pulling is something I have not mastered: to wedge my fat fingers underneath the wood and unearth the wood from the wood like I am pulling open the hood of a car that is not my own. If I could open the hood of a car that is not my own I would have grease on my fingers, my fingers blackened like your mascara. When I asked for something to write with, I looked you in the eyes. When my door would not open I would duck down and look through the gap between the door and the frame. If I look close enough I can see you waving at me, welcoming me. I can see a painting of a famous painting. I do not know who painted this painting. I do not know who's painting was painted. If I were the painter of the painting painted, I would have colors on the tips of my fingers--reds and oranges would be caught in between the whorls and archs, the valleys of the ridges flooded. I would lick my finger and drag it across your cheek. It would leave a mark--a beautiful one.
PostingID: 1928393847

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