Read Time: 2:28
The guy right on the other side of the window is reading something boring: Steinbeck, the Eden one. His coffee is done, he’s already checked the bottom of the coffee mug to see who made it, and then he checked the bottom of the the lovely, naive and long-haired fairchild over there with a fine ass. He crosses his legs. I wonder if she is good enough to give him an erection.
I wonder if I am.
He’s way too young for me, but I can already see he’ll look exactly the same, likely better, in about ten years.
He reminds me of the time my friend declared, “I’ve never had a bad Jewish dick.”
***
I parked next to a Tesla whose license plate said CR8PEAC, which I imagine is actually really easy to do if you are able to afford a Tesla.
***
You propose an “official” girls brunch. Perfect. So good. You are the director of West Coast sales now, which you announce to the cooing women at your table, feeling a vague existential twinge (though you’ve never actually used those two words together, like ever).
Congratulations on those new business cards, bitch! Your life is a consumerist nightmare! Your long, elegant sweaters and diamond earrings! Fuck your elegant sweaters. I hope a thread from your sweater hangs down all the way down to the ground, and when you go to leave this place, I hope that thread gets caught in the escalator and unravels and causes a scene. I know there is no actual escalator in this place, and I still want it to happen.
***
The adolescent with the oily, pimply forehead: I think she will likely become a harmless citizen some day soon. I wonder if I was that kind of child, who was able to look at adults with confidence. I don’t think so.
I think I knew I was smart, but I also knew I was ugly. Forcing the ugly but smart to become self-aware is what ensured I would grow into anything but a harmless citizen.
***
At table C outside, there is a giant and old golden retriever who stands, is reminded that he buckles under his own weight and bad joints, resigns, and sits back down again. He scratches his chin relentlessly.
I hope never to be old, with owners who ignore my fleas.
***
Some lady working on the computer. Who are the people who come to a cafe, order some breakfast and then reside there like it’s their own living room? This question comes from the asshole writer who judges everyone around her because she got into a terrible argument with her lover of 14 years who she won’t marry.
She doesn’t hate you because you are happy; she hates you because your job is not as important as you think, because you are replaceable down to the last atom, because you act like you don’t understand the human condition. She hates you because she’s made so many mistakes, and she hates you for being the audience to her failure.
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