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Showing posts from October, 2005

Rage Of Angels


Minie was 14. She liked wearing bright red lipstick and getting high.
And since Tommy liked to get high, too, they had agreed to meet, before school started, at the edge of the woods.
When Minnie stepped through the leaves and needles, the first thing she saw was Tommy, in jeans and his crumpled hair covering his eye. She stopped to watch the morning fog cling around him; owning him.
And she smiled.
Tommy was beautiful.
It was 7 a.m.
And she had brought two joints.

They were walking down the road; no sidewalks. Tommy's feet shuffled along slow, a dream. She hauled off the joint, to the same slow beat of his sneakers.
She looked up to see him looking away. Bringing his joint to his lips, Minnie knew he was nowhere, but in his mind.
And so she just watched him looking away, blowing from his lips the smoke; a grey swirl just hanging out with the fog.
"Are you scared, Tommy?" she asked.
But he did not answer her, even though he had heard her.
They threw away their joi…