83: The Golden Poppy Hotel Chapter 4 A Fool's Recollection of The Night we Met

Published: Jan. 15, 2020, 6:33 p.m.

‘Hi. I’m Sage.’
            ‘Hush.’ She whispers, so that only her and I can hear her. ‘Be patient sweet girl. I will name you that in time, but not yet. Don’t beg. Let me reach. Let me make you beg. Let me. I will let you love me forever. And I don’t even believe in forever.’ She winks at me and pretends to keep listening to our buddy. She sits on the bar stool next to me. ‘Hey buddy, keep talking.’ She says. Meanwhile, her left palm is sneaking under the high top. I feel all five of those chilly fingers on my inner thighs. ‘AHhhh!’ I yell without thinking. I cower. I make an excuse for my informal behavior. 
            ‘I’m not begging’ I whimper. I look down. I read. I start to tell my story. ‘I don’t want you! Fuck you. You really want to know what I need from you? I text “nothing” like it aint nothing important, but I’m lying like always. I need everything! Like from the very beginning to the end of every little thing. I need it all! I need all of you. I need to be alone. I need to walk deep inside the canyon every morning, and nothing else. You need explanations. You need conversations that lead to senseless conclusions. I need to end on the note of your lips and nothing else. I need to stop listening to shit music that makes me need you. You don’t care about the details. You’re drunk. You order another glass of wine. Your fingers get higher, bolder and more brutal by the second. You know what you want. I know I’ll never stop needing you. I’m not scared. The need for you is bliss in the company of only myself. You are love and I am you. With or without you, I am fearless. I beg myself for your presence. I present myself as the beggar. I am shameless by every account. I beg myself for you. I don’t listen. I listen. I sleep. I dream. You shake me awake. You promise the light of another day. You promise it will heal everything if I let it. I let it. It does. We drink and write until there’s nothing left in this bar but an old humming memory and empty promises. We make it outside. The air is cold but we’re both too drunk to mind. Both our bikes are tied to the same post. I watch you bend over to free yours. I step closer. I put my one hand above your head, on the metal pole you’re leaning against. I think I’m so cool. You’re shaking. You’re not cold. I lose my grip and fall into you. You catch me. You giggle “hey mister, I barely know you.’ I smile and regain my composure. I put my free hand on your cheekbone. “You’re shivering, are you cold?” You say no. You say, “Please, go slow.” You loose control. I control you. I don’t mean to, it’s this sinister thing I learned to do when I was young. I need you. I can’t tell you. You want me. You won’t stand to be needed. You push your chin out to me but keep yourself hidden. I hide my true nature and reach with all my might. I put both hands on your face and play tougher than I am. I kiss you. You cry. You give me yours lips. You retreat. I weep. You lean in again. I’m foreign. You’re scared. You’ve never been so bold in all your life. P taps me on the shoulder from behind. I turn around. She’s pissed. You ride away. I sink. I still need you. You’re nowhere to be found. You text “I don’t know anything ‘bout anything, but here’s a way to Dove street. Come to me. Lie in bed and dream of the stars. My love, we’ve met a thousand times just like this. Just so that we know, we’re never alone.’