so i wrote this a few days ago while in san francisco after passing by this girl on haight/ash. she was the most magnificent creature i've ever, ever seen - not in looks, but i could seriously feel her soul touching mine as we walked by each other. it's pretty poetic so if you like poetry, this'll be your thing - if not, it's some insight into the ridiculously illogical passion that governs the scorpion life.
on haight/ash i was walking with A and M and i saw a girl walking in between four guys. she had dark red hair matted to an almost dread-like consistency and piercing blue eyes that could cut a hole into any man's heart and leave an ocean full of afternoon light brimming over the sides. she looked at me with this "i know who you are and where you come from" christ-like confidence and i looked at her in the dark way i sometimes look at things, the way my eyes become leathery brown bat wings unfolding inside an agelessly abyssal cave where nobody lives. and in that second we exchanged glances i could tell she knew everything about me, where i lived and what my name was and what body part i washed first in the shower and where i kept my cigarettes, and i knew everything about her, how she so obviously was an urchin in the care of these four men, probably local dealers whose three business proponets revolved around the orifices of the body, two each on their own faces with which to insufflate their product and another on the body of their feminine co-hort whose seething, all-encompassing darkness swept the rest of the weekend in san francisco away from me, washing what light i had left along the promontory rocks of the bay and leaving the immeasurable weight of her memory instead.
poetry aside, you have no clue how powerful, beautiful, dark, sexy, alluring, enthralling! this girl was. her eyes were so destructive, so beyond the self-pitying of sorrow and the quiet reflection of grief that i was all at once and immediately scared, angry, unhappy, aroused and in love. she walked with a crooked but powerful gait as though the city streets themselves had imprinted upon her their cement wisdom, and i would have given anything to be just a passerby in the city of her skin.
i would give up sex for ten years to make love to her once.
gaurav, i felt her soul. when that happens, the feeling never goes away - it's like an itch that's there to scratch all your life, and if you're very lucky you might just get to scratch it and finally rest.
aw, thanks guys. i was bummed the WHOLE trip because of this whole incident - it's a good thing i'm moving to san fran in late december. i can go look for her =)
Message posted by: wheelhomies on 11/27/2006 1:10:51 PM ip: xxx.xxx.xxx.112 this is one of the things (maybe the only thing?) i love about scorpios, though. they notice.
wow, you're so witty! i wish i had the dedication required to enter a complete stranger's internet thread and make such amazingly insightful comments as yours. one of these days you're going to have to teach me to navigate the obviously superior intellectualism required to make such a profound statement. until then i guess i'm just of a lesser breed of human than you - you know, some kids wanna be astronauts and firemen, but i want to be just like you!
cap, i believe i'll see her again. i mean, logically, i probably won't. but her eyes begged to destroy me and my eyes begged to destroy her, and something that powerful isn't governed by logic.
so yes, i WILL see her again because of me and my godddamned determination. 🙂
LOL latin, you digging this thread back from the grave brought back some mad memories...and you're right, i wouldn't change being a scorpio for anything. 😄
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on haight/ash i was walking with A and M and i saw a girl walking in between four guys. she had dark red hair matted to an almost dread-like consistency and piercing blue eyes that could cut a hole into any man's heart and leave an ocean full of afternoon light brimming over the sides. she looked at me with this "i know who you are and where you come from" christ-like confidence and i looked at her in the dark way i sometimes look at things, the way my eyes become leathery brown bat wings unfolding inside an agelessly abyssal cave where nobody lives. and in that second we exchanged glances i could tell she knew everything about me, where i lived and what my name was and what body part i washed first in the shower and where i kept my cigarettes, and i knew everything about her, how she so obviously was an urchin in the care of these four men, probably local dealers whose three business proponets revolved around the orifices of the body, two each on their own faces with which to insufflate their product and another on the body of their feminine co-hort whose seething, all-encompassing darkness swept the rest of the weekend in san francisco away from me, washing what light i had left along the promontory rocks of the bay and leaving the immeasurable weight of her memory instead.
poetry aside, you have no clue how powerful, beautiful, dark, sexy, alluring, enthralling! this girl was. her eyes were so destructive, so beyond the self-pitying of sorrow and the quiet reflection of grief that i was all at once and immediately scared, angry, unhappy, aroused and in love. she walked with a crooked but powerful gait as though the city streets themselves had imprinted upon her their cement wisdom, and i would have given anything to be just a passerby in the city of her skin.
i would give up sex for ten years to make love to her once.