Dogpoet: Fugitive

Monday, October 28, 2002

Fugitive

Oh my God I saw your slice of Heaven and really, I’d like to stay there for a little while. Will you commit crimes with me and run away? Oh, yeah, you have a girlfriend. Well, next time maybe.

Won’t someone out there commit crimes with me and run away?

I was pulling out of the Best Buy parking lot yesterday when a car of boys pulled up nearby. The two hotties in the front were checking me out. It was five pm; beer bust time at the nearby Eagle. They were going out, I was going home. This has been my life. I am currently spending too much money on home electronics, DVD’s and searching the Internet for movie posters. Also spending lots of time with women classmates and co-workers. I will soon be in the “gay” Hollywood Square, making you laugh while desperately covering up my sexually neutered status. And failing. I will live vicariously through all your sex lives while pretending not to understand what “punch my kitten” means. I will write closeted “fan mail” to various San Francisco Giants, hoping they might want to “hang out” during this difficult time. Also I will build a shrine to Paul Wellstone in my bedroom and hang roses upside down from the ceiling so that they dry the right way. At the grocery store I will hide the Enquirer in my underwear while buying lots of frozen dinners and making inappropriate remarks to the bagboy who won’t understand English anyway. I’ll channel surf for Law and Order reruns while wearing a flannel bathrobe and fall asleep before eating the vegetable portion.

Unless you become my partner in crime.