Shiny People

Jessica and I have been hanging out more these days. Today I met her in Queen Village at a place called The Red Hook. A coffee shop with large windows and a lot of light. We sat on a retro, green, sofa while we read a Philadelphia magazine and drank coffee. I complimented the woman behind the counter on her backless shirt. A kind of compliment that Jessica would have made. Smiling in a flirtatious way we held our shoulders back and walked fast toward Center City.

Chain smoking we made it to the Planned Parenthood building a few minutes too late. Closed. My shot at the morning after pill has been denied. I don’t think I’m pregnant, but now I’ll have to wait until I can take a test. These types of things always make me nervous.

Jessica told me little jess sent her a plane ticket for her 21st birthday out to LA so she could visit. She’s excited and wants to sit in at Little Jess’s work and watch the porn business spin into action. They’re going to a few clubs since she’s old enough now. I told her to make sure and take lots of pictures.

She said Shakti was very nervous when she came up. They were walking around on our block when two ghetto guys approached them and asked them if they wanted to go to a party. Shakti was scared, but Jessica handled it with ease. She’s good at standing tough in nervous situations. Nothing like that ever happens in Charlottesville. Shakti’s very pretentious. She likes to talk about fashionable poets from the 19th century and drink tea with perfect posture. She’s more conservative than she thinks. The city would eat her alive.

The glitter in her body is what attracts people. Jessica has it too. Something shiny and mysterious that comes out loud from their eyes. Sparkling so bright that people can see it from a mile away.  They talk about astrology, haunted houses, herbal tinctures and cultural mysteries that are half believable and half magic. They are very feminate in a loud presence. Tough victims. Shakti’s eyebrows curl upward in a ‘you’ve hurt me’ way that catches people into sympathy where as Jessica is more flirtatious. Swirling like smoke they trickle soft through people’s eyes.

I’ve been called the quiet mysterious type. I don’t talk loud and my words aren’t tough or interesting. Magic for me comes out too blunt and accidental. As if I’m stumbling through mistakes that seem to fall into place in unusual circumstances. I sit quietly, usually curled into my thoughts with rounded shoulders to protect me from something cold and expected.  You can’t see me a mile away and my dark clothes make me invisible. A hopeful invisibility that comes with imaginary justice. I pretend to glide through town in scarves and boots, hovering close to windows so I can people watch. Waiting to find those people that glitter over me so I can sit and stare in awe.

Today I was with the shiny. Our reflections bounced off one another and for a second, there were no accidental circumstances.


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