We get dressed, one leg at a time, and she looks gorgeous. She's got this frilly dress on, I can't even explain it, it's like nothing I've ever seen before. This is red carpet material. I put on my black dockers and a black tee-shirt for tonight I am an artist in the artist's world. Or at least I could pretend to be. She wears a black dress with the frills on the shoulder. That's the only thing I can explain with my mouth gaping at her beauty. You ready? She asks and I shake my head. I got to brush my teeth, then mouthwash, then hair. And she combs her hair gently. She looks like Carly Simon and even though I may be vain most of the time, I am honest in my opinions. After I brush my pearly whites and gargle and fray my hair, we both look into the upright mirror. The only mirror in the attic and we look marvelous. I grab a scarf and it adds to the character of my magnificence and she puts a bow in her hair. Patsy Cline and Leroy Brown, the main headline of an opening cast of misfits and wanna-bees. We could be, though. That's the thing about looking in the mirror. We are real, we could make it anywhere in the world with just what we need. For me that would be coffee, for her that would mean pot. That's all we needed. Coffee and pot and hand in hand walking down the street. That's all we ever need and I am thankful for that.
For the second time, I think about the girl I met in Johannesburg, June 7, 2010 and I hold my breath and look into the mirror and shes the new one. She's the one I want forever and ever mine. And she looks at my eyes in the mirror and asks, is this what you want tonight? And I shake my head YES!, fifteen times, as she starts to giggle, you're such a silly, silly boy and I love it. Off to the art gallery where we will fit in and belong and learn to love one another. I think this is it. But a story like this never ends with a positive position and I hide that little tidbit in the back of my mind, how can I ruin this and I hide it in the back of my mind, this can't be over before it has begun, I think in the back of my mind. Then I think of her in Johannesburg, one second if there ever was such a thing. One second of pain. Miss Cline says she'll start the car and I'm left in the mirror in the attic all by myself, looking at myself and I tell myself, looking myself in the eye.
DO NOT FUCK THIS UP.
And I look down at my shoes and my scarf and smile. I won't. But something will. Something in the cabin. Something we haven't decoded yet. And I think of Panda Bear and her burn and Cherub with her closed lips, and I wonder if they're alive. Thinking the same thing I ever thought. Does love ever die? And in my mind I see Panda Bear and an army knife. And I walk down the stairs and hop in the car and Miss Cline asks are you okay?
And I say, peachy keen. Peachy, keen...just shut your mouth and look good.
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