9/17 p2

a book of days — same days — all too normal

another black skirt crossing a street — everything else disappears as in a dream — reality caving into a cave between

the lift of a short tight skirt over hips — high heeled feet

leaning against the desk — feet on floor

the lift of the short skirt over hips — the feet lift off the floor

ass against desk — the legs rise up — encircling — lips to lips
legs close so that panties can be removed — thighs spread
soft flesh — smell of moist depth
sucking — sucked into the void of
day dreams of

mind shifts — a line from Fuentes about a girl in a window shifts me back to Mirabel where I read the scenes about her — a girl in black skin tight pants — white shirt and nice black boots — tall and thin — a girl with white legs and tight black shorts and a black jacket — a lot like Kim — black shoes with a couple of straps

“Upset stomach. Tiredness. Cold hands. Gas pains. A longing never to open my eyes again. Insomnia. Shit…”

p321
all except the insomnia

8 o’clock and my coffee is gone