Imported Poems

So, I'm playing with this sweet young thing I met at Walmart last night. He's been working there 3 days, although I saw him for the first time yesterday. It was his hair that caught my eye. It looks like this:



His face is a much more youthful version, however. (-: If Scott Weiland from the Stone Temple Pilots was 15 years younger, didn't do drugs and worked out, he'd look like my young Aaron.

The poor, young innocent doesn't know he's toying with a cougar, LOL.

He was waiting for me by the timeclock, his coworker ensemble in tow, when I went to leave yesterday. Considering their shift didn't end till 1 hour 15 minutes later, there was really no other reason to take up residence there other than to lie in wait for someone. I mean, of all the places one can stand in Walmart, why choose the clock in a boring, gray hallway?

His motive was so transparent it was touching. There's something beautiful and freeing about not having to duel with a romantic mastermind like O, where one is wondering what lies behind the curtain, once the charade ends and the characters leave the stage.

I confess to wanting to pounce unimpeded by any self-imposed morality, and at the same time desiring to be most moral in my relations. We are all hypocrites in the art of romance: men feign interest in a woman's mind, heart or virtues, and women pretend to be without / above sexual impulse. We assume these roles and play out pre-scripted parts until some prudent time, which is always arbitrary (would it rather be fixed, though in Christianity it is), when we drop pretense and behave as we would.

Why do we play at morality? Is morality authentic if it stands in stark contrast to the impulse or is morality only true when both mind and body agree on the subject?