Someone Else's Boyfriend

fuuuuck. I've have been waiting all day on this damn balcony to get an illegal tattoo. These people come and go but the conversations are all the same: "How do you feel about bottled water? The balcony is a free space man, we shouldn't be restricted here. The party tonight will be sick, I hope too many people don't try to crash it. Cocaine is fucking mind-expanding. Yea I just got off a train from Arizona and the street is my home." Fuck these people. I just want to lay in the sun and let Saturday fuck me. Its been about 3 hours and I'm laying on my only friend's bed thinking about sex when someone knocks on the door. He says it will be 2o minutes. 20 minutes later I find myself laying face-up on a love seat staring at the psychedelic ceiling listening to weird instrumental music with my shirt off and this man's elbow in my crotch. Good tattoo.

Now that I can escape this place I don't know what to do with myself. To the City I go. He said he'd be here, but I had a feeling he wouldn't. Either way I can find someone I know in the City and I've got a water bottle full of vodka so I will be OK. He's downtown. I run as fast as I can from the Montgomery station but I still miss the fireworks. damn. I finally get there and I see him: someone else's boyfriend. Why should I get my own if I can have yours? He doesn't ask me to come back with him right away becasue he never really does. That would be admitting he has a mistress and who wants that on their conscious? Another Saturday spent smoking too much and drinking too much with college students. Another Saturday night spent in someone else's boyfriend's bed. Another night spent trying to suck someone else's boyfriend's neck quietly. Then after what feels like forever, its Sunday. Wake up at 2 in the fucking afternoon. Someone else's boyfriend makes me breakfast at 3 in the fucking afternoon. Bluberry banna pancakes covered in Nutella and bacon on the side. yum. The rest of the day is spent in a dark room with fingers and other appendages in vaginas and tongues on stomachs while a kitty purrs and Kacey Johansing talks about summer and Jeff Buckley talks about heaven. Perfect Sunday. What?! its already 9:30?! Well you might as well stay. fuck. What's another night? The weekend ends on Monday now.

I might actually feel bad about someone else's boyfriend if I wasn't such a cunt and she didnt deserve it so much. Whatever, maybe i'll plant a tree or something to help my karma because I believe in that bullshit. So I leave without a word and catch the early bus and laugh quietly to myself while I sip the last bit of that vodka and cross the bridge that leaves the city behind. I lift my shirt and peek down at that fresh tattoo. Its a wolf paw. Viva La Loba Loca.