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Story of Waking Up

My spine is arched at an angle not quite horizontal to the mattress. I twist and dig to find the right posture so that the springs won’t bob and bend in between the knobs and blades of my back. The clammy coldness of sleeping in the clothes I’ve been in all of yesterday and dirty blankets crushed against my face, my girlfriends light breathing on my cheek, all wake me up to a dog-barking, lawn-mowing, ambulance-blaring morning. Again. It’s 11:33 a.m.I shut my eyes, they burn. I taste my mouth, it’s bitter. I remember we don’t have any food. a couple of eggs left maybe but nothing to fill me up. I reach below the blankets and feel my hair-prickled pussy. My period has leaked through bunched toilet paper. I remember that I have two more tampons that I’m saving for when I go out. Maybe not today since there’s no reason to, no money and just a little bit of gas in the car. But Wednesday I get paid and I’ll need that tampon to grocery shop. I’ll need the other one if I decide to go to the park instead of waiting inside all day for someone to call for the dresser I put up on craigslist. They say they will take it for $50 and come by today but never do. They never d. My girlfriend slides her leg up on my thigh and her hand pulls and pinches my belly. She’s woken up probably a few times before me this morning but falls back asleep when she knows I don’t want to get up yet. She kisses my lips and I hold my breath in since I havent brushed my teeth yet. I kiss her neck and poke my fingers in her curls, playing with them and untangling the tight ones. I don’t talk too early. I’m still trying to remember my dreams. I read somewhere the more you move, the more you forget them so I lay still and think and look around to trigger some memories. My hand moves absently around the blankets, I feel the scratchy mattress that was blue and now coated with a smokey yellow and left by a man who was left prison to live in this apartment. I imagine all the dried semen, cigarette ash and shed light brown hairs left behind and pull the blanket taut over it so i won’t touch it again on accident. I feel crumbs and then my cell phone. The battery is in red and it chirps a notice that I have new emails. I thumb down the menu and see some from Vindale Research asking if I am a non-smoker USA Lottery notification that I may have won something, chain mail from a literary group I signed up for when I still lived California. My phone chirps again–urgent chirping–it needs charging. I drop it, don’t feel like looking for a charger, I turn and kiss her more. She’s already online looking at a Mark 5d ii camera. “How did you sleep last night”?


About fridaynitelesbianscrabble

Lesbian Chicana creating a space to talk about health, sex, books, political and social issues that are specific to my intersections as a lesbian, Chicana, femme, writer.


2 thoughts on “Story of Waking Up

  1. I love that you write from your life. So vivid and tangible like I’m in your dream reality. If you’re based in New Orleans, would love the chance to meet up with U. More about me: http://www.himab.com/bio/

    Posted by License to Pimp | October 7, 2011, 3:19 am
    • Hi,
      thanks for your comment! I am not currently in New Orleans but will be within the month. I see that you are a filmmaker–my gf and I are working on a screenplay right now actually. we are also interested in documentaries. Maybe we can work on a project together in the future. thanks for sharing your link! do you have a fb?

      Posted by fridaynitelesbianscrabble | October 11, 2011, 10:39 pm

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