I am with gypsies. I am with gypsies doing gypsy things and listening to gypsy music and watching gypsy basketball. And I am thinking about a girl from Los Angeles, California.

She is a girl that happens to be beautiful, not at all of her own doing, and she has amazing taste in clothing. I am listening to a woman speaking in French about toothpaste and love and it is pleasantly chilly. There is a sporadic inclusion of these swarmy gusts of wind that each remind me of the beach.

When the beaches are hot in Los Angeles, California people walk around and purchase bongs and eat pizza even though they're on a diet. Calories, bro. And they tan and their freckles come out of all those pale places and make the strawberry blonds look especially special.

And there are lips. Lips, in the cool of the pseudo-summer make for a magical, delightful dish. And there are words like 'sweltering' and 'unbearable' and then the beach eases the fears that these frightful words induce. The rides to the beaches are like ventures into this daringly welcoming ring of Hell. Just, riding the 1-10 or the 4-0-5, windows down and your heart thumping against your lungs and ears and everything. It always ends in love-making.

And here I am, on the other side of this dastardly continent, sitting with gypsies and drinking gypsy alcohol and watching gypsy hockey. And I am thinking of a girl with a divine pair of breasts.


1 comment:

  1. I am a gypsy.
    Thank you for coming to my gypsy home and doing gypsy things with me.
    And also for mentioning our gypsy times in this lovely post.
    Hope you made it home safely.