Skip to main content

Punks-Before The Beginning

Sacrificing to the Gods

Minnie was 14.  She liked bright red lipstick and getting high.
There was a handsome boy, hair cropped close to his head, with a genuine smile who lived in the apartment building at the end of her street.  He was 22.
He was a drug-dealer.

She waited one day at dusk.  She knew she would not have to wait long.
He came out the doors.
"Hey," she pointed at him.
"What are you doing?" he looked at her, confused.
She dropped her hand and barely smiled. "Waiting for you.  You are going to help me out."

She would knock on his door after that only in the morning, before his girlfriend got up.  Before the other buyers would see her.
It was the only reason he continued to sell to her.
"What is your name?" he asked one day.
"I do not know yours," she replied.  "I like it that way."

Minnie had to get home, she barely had enough time to grab some chips and pop for her night from the variety store.
He was walking up to the store.
"Hi," he said.
"Can you help me right now?" she asked. 
She was pretty sure he never carried.
"I can't right now," he said. 
"I have to baby-sit my kid brother and sister tonight.  They are in bed by eight."  She ran her hand down her arm.
"Yeah," he said.  "I'll drop by around 8:30."
She closed her eyes and smiled big.  Opening them up, she sighed, "Thanks."
She walked by him, down the blacktop of the sloped parking lot.

She smiled when she opened the door to him and he smiled back.
"You got enough time to come in and smoke a joint with a kid?" she asked.
"You're no kid," he said.
"Then come on in," she replied.

"Downstairs," she said.  "My parents never go down there."
He followed her down the stairs.  It was a large cleverly disguised room.  But it was definitely the room in the house she slept in.
One lamp lit the room, dimly.
She sat on the brown couch and so did he.
She looked up at him, with clear eyes, innocent.  She blinked once.
He rolled a joint on the coffee table.

Bob Segar played in the background.  He knew all the words.
He leaned in and kissed her.  Her lips were soft, feeling never kissed.
And then she bit his lip.  His hand went into her hair. 

Her breast were small.  So white.  So young.
Her eyes were so trusting.  This kind of sex had only happened once in his life.
He slid his hand down her pants.

"You are so wet," he whispered in her ear, he had to tell her.
She said nothing, just looked in his eyes.
"Has a boy ever tasted you before."
"No," she whispered.
"I want to taste you," he said.
"Take off my pants then," she stretched her arms over her head.

He dropped a gram of pot on her table, after he did up his pants.  She sat with her t-shirt over her knees.
He wanted to look at every part of her.
"What is your name?"
She rolled her eyes.  "I do not know yours," she sighed.  "I like it that way."
He thought he was in love with her.
"That is on the house," he said, pointing to the table.
"Thank you," she said.
And she smiled.
She had spent the last of her allowance at the variety store.


AJ said…
Now that's one redhot story there Q!
jakethelad said…
Q for quite hot - the story that is. By the way - have you heard from Maddy lately? I miss her. She's been very quiet since her golfing trip. I hope you have a good week. See ya soon.
AJ said…
Hi Jake...sorry to eavesdrop, but I just thought I'd throw in that I was thinking the same thing about our friend Maddy. I left a message on her blog saying that we missed her. I'm sure she'll be around anytime now...

Popular posts from this blog


When I was in Ottawa, abandoned and enthralled,
breathing in the
heat waves shimmering off the people
and the cats
and that lazy raccoon that I later named Mondrian in my mind
after I saw my first one,
I did not look for you.
Nor in the malls, the halls,
the magazines, in the new towns,
or down the old roads,
on silver screens, between the book shelves, down on my knees
hands in the clover.
I took you for granted.
Oh hey.
There you are.

I know myself
Far, far, far more than I let on
I know what I am doing.

Love is such an easy word.
Besides, it's a given,
We can keep it there, easy, big, broad like the straight black painted lines, it's nice.
Effortless. Quiet. Assured.
So then, I guess that it is not the word.

Punks-Starting to Remember

Minnie is 14. She likes wearing bright red lipstick and getting high.
Right now, Tommy is arguing with her. "Vitto will be waiting for me then."
"He can wait longer," she tells him. "Tell him there was too many cops following you around or something."
"Yeah," Tommy says. "That might work. Vitto would believe that. Three different cops stopped me on the street this week."
"What?" Minnie almost shouted. "Oh, Tommy. They are on to you."
“No, they aren't."
But she knew. "For sure they are. Listen. Meet me outside the pool hall at 9:30. I'll havethe dope then, Tommy."
“No. I really should go see Vitto first.” He kisses her quickly on the forehead and then runs home to make himself some Kraft Dinner for supper.

When he walks in the front door, there is Momma with a bottle of whiskey tucked between her legs, her head rolled to the back of the couch, her mouth open.
"What the fuck, Momma?” Tomm…

Quiet Company

I've been sold, I've been sold, I've been sold, I'm being sold-out
It is torture but
I don't even care
Except to love you more, to love myself more
Those hot-burned tears for you as I rally to save my skin
wind down me and leave behind gold and green
and I don't stop looking
until I look upon you
What on earth...
I've been sold, I've been sold, I've been sold.
I'm being sold-out.

Sunlight filtering through cracks
in the sky
in the walls
fall across your skin
I fingerpaint across your chest
Every word
known to man
and found in you

Fresh snow
Our footprints mark us
You are here!
I am here!
We are here!
Turn your face upwards
Let falling snow rest on your eyelashes
(dream of me)
Let the white melt on your outstretched tongue

It's spring.
Just one word.

I'd sit across the hall
looking upwards until I saw the flicker; light on
Sit with you while your busy hands rolled over these plains, these fields
The stretches of nothing
(Look at…