"i have to go," she said and rolled off of me we broke up a month ago exactly and last night i drove down to san francisco driving slow through the theater district trying to find some guy, a scene kid on the 700 block of o'farrell a hundred dollars in my wallet two grams of coke and when we get back to the apartment you're there you've lost ten or fifteen pounds and you're wearing tight jeans i've been drunk all day, i smoke two bowls, i snort three lines and give you one and when we go outside to have a cigarette i touch your legs, your face, your hair until you kiss me and tell me that we can't do anything past that this morning we did another couple
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