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Keeping it Real

May 15, 2010

She gazed as people spoke; safe in the marina layer of fog. That’s how she gazed at him, Sam I am. Skylar is in a deli at 4:00 a.m., she’s writing on a newspaper, ‘Keeping it Real.’ Spinning his ring  ‘Sam u r’ showed up and slid onto her booth.

His brown eyes pulsated into hers. Life kicked and screamed inside her. Skylar told him she was preoccupied. He told her a limo dropped him off, that he lived the streets of Costa Rica, and he was Sam from the CIA.

She continued writing, ‘…dangled like a diamond necklace, choking her naive neck…’ Sam showed her some Cubism paintings, and spun his ring—that’s all Skylar noticed. Sam gave her a box of hot tomales—it must of been Halloween. Skylar woudn’t know; she lost her watch. She refused to tell the time from the Mavado.

That was a moment when a conversation with a stranger was the best. Maybe he realized, maybe he knew, I don’t think she did, but maybe, was the fact that she had fallen in love once with a representation of Sam. Like the Cubism, multilayered.

The next time she was writing late at night in the deli, under the pen name Nada, she wished Sam I am would show up, spinning his ring, holding her hands as she let go of the chained fence.

2 Comments leave one →
  1. June 29, 2010 8:56 p06

    Your words just flow…

  2. November 13, 2010 8:56 p11

    i wish to have some diamond necklace but they are quite expensive `;’

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