Walk into clothing store and be assisted by blonde-hair-blue-eyed-prince type. Flirt slyly not too directly. Leave store and return an hour later out of slight curiosity and even slighter desire to get said shop boy’s number. Laugh at welcome back joke and avoid eye contact for a few moments then step forward with right foot and calmly explain that you’re just back in the country from living abroad and don’t know anyone in this city as you’re just visiting and would he like to take coffee together. He would like to take said coffee indeed! Victory! A triumph. Walk smugly out with his number on a wad of cash-register paper with the name “Steven” penned across the top. Go home and nap and wait and pace and make sure a minimum hour and a half has passed then write. We are writing. He’s articulate in the written word, with a cool but formal methodology. Jesus, he just wrote: “btw I’m 18”
World out there, can you hear me? I’m no louder than a mouse beneath the sofa. I have two doors before me and I cannot decide which to open and step through. Life must be a labyrinth after all; a set path that masquerades with branching corridors and curling stairways but no matter one’s choice towards the center we all gravitate and there, there sits the Minotaur waiting and breathing in the perfume of our eager hope. Will he devour me like the naked Athenian youths? No, I will not spill open my bowels on the floor and stick my eye in between those great canines. Yet, can I seduce the breathing beast in the darkness? It can inhale my body from toe to brow and enter my thoughts while I sleep, but I will maintain the path to the radiant exit and slip out some morning like a sparrow at dawn.