people say i'm pretty and they call me Pretty Kitty. i think it sounds nice, especially the way the boys say it, like there's a itch in their throat and then they lick their lips. sometimes they touch me on the arm and sometimes they just kiss me like they're stealing. they like to ask me questions but i don't think they're always listening to the answers. they watch my lips move then light a cigarette or cross their legs. it's like they're impatient, and a lot of times i think they just want to leave. but they sit with me for hours at the cafe as if they have nowhere else to go.

some boys seem mad at me, and talk like they're pouting. they won't look at me but sideways and then they start drawing in their books again, or they write a poem with words like why and never and with images of roses that fall apart. they read them to me with husky voices then stare just past me at something that seems very far away. i feel bad for them then because they look like they're angry, and like they might cry. i try to say their poems are nice, but sometimes they just get up and walk away.


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