Saturday, November 8, 2008
Tyra Mail! (squeaky high pitched voice)...tyra banks...I hate you.
I open the window and you're staring at me. Its frightening. I ask you to stop but you won't. Your eyes penetrate the space between us. I look behind me and wonder. Is it truly me you're staring at? At first... at first I was flattered. But now, now its just creepy. You reach for something beside you on the floor. And all of a sudden one of your eyes is closed and the other magnified. I realize you're looking through a.. a telescope? Ugh ridiculous. I grab my bag as I walk out the door. Walmart now. For curtains. Real estate agent tomorrow.