Leaping up and around, she settles into the room by taking her a-symmetrical jacket off. She is smooth like a glass of J Lohr. She doesn’t seem to get twisted in anybody else’s moments, only her own. The moments may be divine if she chooses them to feel that way. Clicking of the clock the arms strike 9:43pm. A step is taken backwards into the real future of her dreams.
Her gloves are red leather; they show that sex, sexuality and intelligence is worn confident. So her tits weren’t as perky as the white girl with the great gleuts at the gym. Fuck that. She rowed just as hard to get ahead. For sometimes it felt like there were a million bright ideas dancing in her head and highlighters were meant to scribble them out. She rode harder than a horse.
The tap of a finger on glass echoes alongside the sound of others laughter. A smile appears on her face. Her laughter fills inside her breasts, her eyes as well. If she were a star she knows it would be a bright one. She came from the past.