The Android

Oriental Alexandria

In a small restaurant in Chinatown-Philadelphia, she and I sat down on a warm night and spoke. We spoke of high school and college, of men and of marauders. It was a strange craving I've had for about a month now, and a certain name came rolling out.

"That beautiful thing, his lifestyle is a temper to be reckoned with."

"Hookups"

Fascinating and numerous.

Why don't you do it? You and your lady friends are in the company of men, many of them wanting and waiting. Braun and brains, built like machines. Blue-eyed calf that calls in the morning with "lay your tired eyes down beside me, you can't help that you'd like to."

Well see,

somewhere up the winding highway that our bus sped through without pause

is a memory, buried deep in the folds.

A creature I had never before seen--a dark soul within a shell of iron but eyes to melt-- had bulleted through my tired heart,

and I through his.

But,

"love is simply trust", and unfortunately,

my lips remained sealed about everything I'd done.

And in that moment, something deep inside of me locked up. Some inhibitor of sorts. It left a mark that began to burn through my mind and my body.

I've taken it along as a token for the ride. I can't find the key in the bedrooms or loveseats of anyone around me.

I try to explain it sometimes but the denser minds won't believe.

We save ourselves for causes long lost.