Z. and I meet for the first time in the coffee shop on Granville, he was a barrista, I'd leave home early to take time to sit on the steps of the Vancouver Art Gallery enjoying the sun and the java I could finally afford at fourteen bucks an hour. He must have fixed it, my name got drawn for the daily prize, a pound of beans, and so I took him to the martini party that night. Tongue ring, balcony, smiles and honest to goodness play. Sweet sweet sweet boy. Hemp macrame, NHL, futons and hand holding. My first Christmas with a boyfriend and his family. The only man I've lived with. The first man to bring me to orgasm, oh, I worked him so hard, he was such a trooper. He was speechless when I broke it to him, in my empty, done, selfish way. I'll wonder if the customer who introduced you to your first investment got you addicted, if you went back to school. If you got your MBA and are making big bucks trading. I'm sorry I left you behind Z., when I left town. If only I'd taken you more seriously.
Updated June 2024 | Acknowledgements | Copyright ©1998-2024 Risa Horowitz