70's Porno Music

Roper

May 20th, 1973

The first thing I realized about Mamma's new boyfriend was the chest hair that seemingly made its way up his neck.

The way he held a toothpick in his mouth even if it was hours after we ate.

I noticed that he sucked his teeth and dug his ear with his pinky during the oddest of times.

I noticed that he wore strong cologne and kept a flask in his back pocket.

I noticed that he looked at my mother with the kind of admiration everyone deserves.

We had lunch today. I had a hero. Turkey, provolone, lettuce, tomato, banana peppers, oil, vinegar, pesto sauce.

Mamma's boyfriend, Markus, order Italian with everything you could possibly choose except for Tuna.

Mamma settled for a salad. She picked at it and eventually had the other half of my sandwich.

We talked about the weather, politics, my writing and the case regarding the break in and vandalized apartment. There are no leads as of today.

I don't think anyone is looking hard enough.

Mamma asked about the woman who I stayed with.

"Beverly? How is she?"

"Good mamma. She's doing fine."

I keep the phone unplugged.

If I were offered a million dollars if I knew what Bev did today, yesterday, a week ago, I would be no J. Paul Getty.

I miss her. The faint smell of cigarettes, the vanilla perfume, the bright lipstick... I missed her. I missed my Bev. My sweet Bev.

If I'm being honest, I had to leave before I could get broken. I'm already hurt, a little crack to the surface, but to be completely broken I would have to be in love with Bev.

As many times as I tell myself I'm not, I can't help to think that I was getting there.

Like I said, my surface has been cracked.

Bev doesn't belong to anyone but herself. She makes that clear. But I know I belong to her. With her ways that don't make sense and her loose grip on reality, Bev still remains as an important figure in my life.

I just want her to speak to me. I want her to tell what's wrong. I want to hold that cute, little head in my hands and wait for the words to spill out.

What have I done wrong? Am I not enough for her? Does she confide in other men because I don't make the cut? I don't want to hear it's her and not me... I want the truth. I want to know why I can belong to her and she doesn't belong me.

God. I'm going crazy. We've never confessed our feelings in a deep, meaningful way. We've never uttered the words girlfriend or boyfriend.

But I'm fading. My songs are sad and really make you feel.

Maybe I'll plug the phone back in.