because once is never enough

I smoothed over my miniskirt, adjusted my tube top, buried my gum in a tissue, and stared straight ahead. when the elevator opened he loped out. I clicked the unlock button and he careened into the passenger seat of my tiny car, leaned in to give me a hug. I changed gears as joy division blared out of the radio.

we flipped around in a swift, calculated u and roared onto the 10, windows down, hot air mixing with the air conditioned car interior. we got off at fairfax and worked our way up towards the darkened hills. we passed little eithiopia and canters deli, nova, largo, and the whole foods where some fool backed into me once. we hung a right on santa monica and creeped through the traffic. the slick west hollywood streetlights made the night as bright as day. we passed the pleasure chest, the parlour club, and the shiny closed storefronts. we drove until the sidewalks turned dirty.

i slipped the car into a spot across from velvet & applied clear l'oreal lip gloss in the rearview. dry heat rose up from the boulevard. it permeated our pores, frizzed my once-blow dried hair. he took off across the street. my bony ankles threatened to topple as I chased after him. couples with dyed black hair and lip piercings, combat boots and striped tights and corsets stood around the entrance. a mohawked photographer snapped our photo. my eyes flashed ice beneath the blaze around us.

next time I won't stop before the hills. i'll follow the pizza and powder brushes, sneak past the canyon roads clogged with cop cars. i'll end up on a mountain balcony smoking cigarettes til the sun floats up over the 101 and traces its way west over mulholland. there will be no lingering midnight glances at trannie del taco, no fingers gripping yours as we tear across the pavement. your face wasn't bathed in moonlight. it was just the street that night.