And what about the inevitable tomorrow?

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August 10, 2014 by Wayne.

I dated an atheist once, it was
a waste of time, generally speaking.
It went pretty well for a while
we’d watch community reruns on the futon
i’d cook some shitty stir-fry and
complain about not having good
or we’d buy donairs at
the stall by Mercer
Fuck and cuddle
do the dishes

She had such strange thoughts though.
I could ignore them at first
Replace her heretical discourse with grunts through gritted teeth
Focus on her darting eyes while she railed against…everything
Because they were quite, honestly, quite beautiful.
Yeah, she was pretty once.
In her own way.

In time, she faded the usual way
Slowly at first, then all at once
And I couldn’t be bothered, honestly,
to put up with her attacks
fuckkk off, i said
no no, she clicked, and she
waved her antenna about like a mad
like a mad mad mad
and so i pointed at her,
very firmly, to be honest
sal de aqui inmediatamente
fuera de aqui
but she wouldn’t leave.

The next morning, she ate my steel-cut oats
in her huge as fuck WSPU white shirt
that you could see through to the base
of her shiny coxa
I felt a bit sentimental then.
You know.
That twitch of affection, male-possession-pride whatever
She ignored me with her beady heathen eyes
What a bitch

She also taught me to carve, though.
I still try sometimes
the flat-plane style I never really got to grips with
strange, strange
you don’t sand it, see
it’s all flick flick and rub
she liked that,

I miss her sometimes, honestly, but not often
Usually when it’s cold out, and
I’m kneeling in that chapel behind the arts building
thinking of how she used to laugh
I miss hating things with her
And the clicking clacking and
not much else.

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