me. 50. bald. fat. dumb. incoherent.

a blogger.

shes full of gorgeousness. blonde. free. happy. sassy.

im all, im trying to drive over here.

she sends another and im like hey im trying to be sad over here. worlds ending.

above i can hear the helicopters hover really high above downtown LA. they gotta be news copters because theyre just up there treading water so gracefully. except its air. thick with sorrow. heavy with heaviness.

im sure she cares but instead asks me to take a picture of my junk. i do a search for a black male porn star from the 80s, all it shows is his legs and his massive moneymaker. i copy it, send it to her.

she says whos floor is that? thats not yours! what whores house you at?!

she better be kidding. no one owns me. i sure as hell dont own her.

if i did, shed be out driving in south central.

and id be up in chopper one

looking down.

trying to figure out how to stop the inevitable.