Sugarhead

Frozen pancakes and I’m sopping up the syrup with them, mad, that I saw 75 cars that looked like your old raggedy ass car when I was on the road today and I stopped for more beer and worried about how much money I’ve spent on beer this week and paid the man at the register at the beverage drive thru, who I hate because normally he gets my order wrong by saying they don’t sell things that I always get when he isn’t around and often he won’t even make eye contact with me so I am confident that he either loves me or hates me and he probably hates me because I drink too fucking much, I mean he does see me quite often and every time that he does I’m always alone and it’s always some weird time to be getting another bottle of whiskey and a cupcake and some cigarettes because it’s either 10 AM or 1 AM and I guess I wonder about him worrying about it because he is cute and he is young and maybe I’m a little pissed that every other guy that works there flirts with me but he doesn’t and I don’t understand it because what’s the harm and I’d tell him no, surely, because of you and here we go… of course I’m back to thinking about you and how you have a girlfriend and how you are shitting all over her feelings every time you are with me and maybe he can smell that on me and doesn’t want anything to do with it because he has a girlfriend that he is faithful to or I’m just not his type or even the right gender or size or skin tone or other things that people think about that they don’t mean to say or act out…anyway, the pancakes weren’t warm enough, I only notice as I finish them and I wonder too if that has any bearing on my relationship with you, because what doesn’t these days when I see you places you’d never be, so when I want something sweet, I just do and there’s no easy explanation for why and whether or not it’s good for me or even room temperature isn’t a factor since I seem to spend so much time worrying about stupid shit, irrelevant thoughts from an irrelevant soul in a irrelevant place living irrelevantly (especially considering how often it is that I concern myself with what the cute, aloof, stranger, disinterested boy at the gas station thinks about my weird cheap beer shopping habits) but I’ve finished the pancakes now and if finishing a craving is the case now, aren’t you next somehow?

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