Your Driver Is Waiting

by Priya Guns

The driver behind me in a green hybrid flailed his arms around like he was late for his yearly dick suck.

In our current times, a city is a place, is a space, is the same everywhere minus the design of buildings, the demographics, and the weather. Cities have all been structured the same.

My teeth were yellowed, but cigarettes and coffee were too delicious for me to care. They made love in my mouth like it was New Year’s Eve and they had no resolutions.

“It’s not about how you look but how you feel, and you, mahal, are beyond beautiful.”

unless the drivers were young men who drove as if the only real meaning they had in their lives was when they pretended to be drag racers, driving aimlessly up and down the same street to prove they’ve got testicles. Vroom fucking vroom, they were that vacuous inside.

There is a sadness I feel and don’t often talk about. I don’t know how to fix it.

Even though I loved my body, I was not used to showing it.

Men don’t realize just how delicate we are down there. Start slow, caress the lips, don’t hit the button. Take all the time in the world.

I grabbed my phone to message Jolene back. I’m not sure about us, I started, but then I quickly deleted that and wrote, I’d like to see you soon too. D xxx

Then there was an Amy (4.9 stars) who had that look I like. Goth girls with piercings and neo-traditional tattoos, one placed terribly on their thigh. They cut themselves in soft places. Their dildos were purple and they used them religiously on Friday nights. The yeastiness from the beer they drank could be smelled from between their legs.

The city has jagged edges and it sits in my hand.