Friday, August 21, 2009
Salt on the Wound: The Return of Starla
She came back tonight. If I've had more awkward moments, I can not recall. We smiled and joked and everyone, including her companion "Tom," was left scratching their heads, and asking me what the hell that was about. I would find the whole thing far more amusing if I weren't so oddly stuck on her. Why do some people linger in our minds? Why do I see her eyes when I close mine? I don't even know her name, nor harbor any hope to ever learn it. I think I just answered my question. I do love a challenge. Maybe we'll run into each other at the IPK again.
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Dude, fuggedabouder. Why have a "wound" on which she can rub "salt"? This is not a challenge to love.
Stop hassling Starla, dude. She's mine. I've dated her since high school.
Hassling, my ass. She comes into my bar, starts hassling me for my choice of reading material, continues to provoke shit during completely accidental incidents. She's the one you need to talk to, "Tom."
If she's really yours, why would she be out flirting with fools like me? Why would she take my picture?
I know I'm never gonna see her again, and I'm not worried about it. You have bigger problems than some loser waiter.
You be nice to my Tom
Tom's Mom raised a chump.
I bet I could beat up your older brother
--Tom's Older Brother
I bet I could give you turn by turn directions to somewhere you want to go (if you were driving a motor vehicle).
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