A rose is a rose is a tramp

“I guess not,” she says then claims having some other plans for the weekend. It makes me lose all interest whatsoever in the conversation and I end up zoning out for the remainder of the call. I hang up, give it a shrug, life goes on.
Bottom line is, there goes weekend sex.

Fast-forward to say nine, ten p.m. and I´m at school (post-grad naturally being one expensive type of slideware) eyeing this drop-dead brunette in a black shirt over khaki leotards walking over to the waste bin to say, throw away some crumpled piece of paper, or spit gum, whatever. She wears her lipstick like a 1950s pin-up and wavy brown hair draping back from over her shoulders. Milky-white skin, big eyes, slim, trim, but also with the hint of a potbelly she subtly attempts to hide by holding it against the green wool sweater in her hands as she stands up.
I sigh, also roll back my eyes but just a little, really. I can´t get enough of that, I really can´t.

Bride of Frankenstein overhead shifts the Power Point presentation to the next slide and an add by Accenture flashes onscreen, the one with gold player Tiger Woods on it. Jesus Christ, Accenture´s a competitor, you know?, and coincidently enough the MS-Project whiz-kid a couple of seats to my right just happens to work there: Called me up the other day then asked for my help in applying some Excel function to his Project plan and I started out by saying, Whoa. People then flocked over to his desk to see what we were up to only not up to much: We ended up googling for some existing macro anyhow.

I mean, god, is weekend sex really too much to ask for? My eyes have been bleeding over the faintest suggestion of any more late-night internet porn to the point I actually start with say Tera Patrick or Veronica Zemanova on any given evening and end up with Spider-Man and the Green Lantern instead.

Guy sitting up front slips me a note with an update on the score of tonight´s soccer game- he´s got an earphone hooked up to his cell phone radio. I hand over his message to this other girl to my left: works for Stuttgart Porsche, has a lotus flower tattooed on her ankle.

The Kali Yuga is all over the world tonight, can you feel it too? Listen up close as it eats up our souls and trims down our dreams, also nips any expectation of weekend sex we might have in the bud.