Bloody fucking moon in Aries. Worst dream ever. Worst dream since I dreamed he stabbed me in our bed. We were in his ex-wife's house in Alamo Heights. He showed me the Mexican Coca-Cola in the fridge, told me it was so much better than American Coke but I wasn't thirsty. We weren't kissing or fucking or touching in any fucking way. Coldest winter since January 31, 1949. He was the Capricorn. Saturn. I was the Aquarian. Uranus. I still shared a birthday but not birthdate with his ex-wife. She was a year older than him. I was still fifteen years younger. He had Pluto on my moon so he had all the fucking power. His Mars in Sagittarius was not exactly slobbering all over my sixth house Venus. Fuck. It was Monopoly and I'd never win. All those red and green pieces of plastic would never be mine.
"She could be back at any second. Let's get the hell out of here," I said.
"What's your rush? You got a hot date with the guy at Taco Cabana?" he asked.
"No, he works at Popeye's. Get it right."
"Bitch."
"Pendejo."
"If you were a man I'd knock you on your ass."
"Or if I were your ex-wife. But you don't love me enough to hit me."
"BITCH. I should have never told you anything. You use it all as ammunition."
"I've got an arsenal of spitwads. Ain't afraid to use it."
The door opened. The better Aquarian was home. She was shocked. Outraged. I apologized profusely on my way out the door. But then we were all three across the street at the horse stable and the man I loved more than Chef Boyardee pizza and peanut M&Ms combined was helping his ex-wife fix something. I told her I knew about the restraining order and wondered why she had given her ex-husband (the man I loved to Pluto and beyond) a key to her house. Oh, in case of a water emergency. Gotcha. Dry spells in San Antonio can be rather harrowing. Don't throw anything away. Keep those numbers in your phone. They might come in handy.
God. The BLOOD. Then we were all three back in the coldest casa in San Antonio. It was a goddamn mausoleum starring me. There was no me. There was only them. The Capricorn and The Aquarian who met in high school, fell in love, got married and made four sons. I did not exist. I was the cracker from the North Texas sticks. He took his shirt off and I loved him harder and deeper than Priscilla ever loved Elvis. I wanted to devour him but he was not my candy to savor. The Real Aquarian ran her nails down his chest and he laughed because he loved her and it was ON like Donkey Kong so I made my meaningless invisible gringa exit and it was the darkest night on record but I somehow found a church and I was climbing the spire to get closer to God and then I saw two black wolves snarling in my direction and I knew they would eat me because finally I was seen and smelled but then I woke up. Scentless.
"She could be back at any second. Let's get the hell out of here," I said.
"What's your rush? You got a hot date with the guy at Taco Cabana?" he asked.
"No, he works at Popeye's. Get it right."
"Bitch."
"Pendejo."
"If you were a man I'd knock you on your ass."
"Or if I were your ex-wife. But you don't love me enough to hit me."
"BITCH. I should have never told you anything. You use it all as ammunition."
"I've got an arsenal of spitwads. Ain't afraid to use it."
The door opened. The better Aquarian was home. She was shocked. Outraged. I apologized profusely on my way out the door. But then we were all three across the street at the horse stable and the man I loved more than Chef Boyardee pizza and peanut M&Ms combined was helping his ex-wife fix something. I told her I knew about the restraining order and wondered why she had given her ex-husband (the man I loved to Pluto and beyond) a key to her house. Oh, in case of a water emergency. Gotcha. Dry spells in San Antonio can be rather harrowing. Don't throw anything away. Keep those numbers in your phone. They might come in handy.
God. The BLOOD. Then we were all three back in the coldest casa in San Antonio. It was a goddamn mausoleum starring me. There was no me. There was only them. The Capricorn and The Aquarian who met in high school, fell in love, got married and made four sons. I did not exist. I was the cracker from the North Texas sticks. He took his shirt off and I loved him harder and deeper than Priscilla ever loved Elvis. I wanted to devour him but he was not my candy to savor. The Real Aquarian ran her nails down his chest and he laughed because he loved her and it was ON like Donkey Kong so I made my meaningless invisible gringa exit and it was the darkest night on record but I somehow found a church and I was climbing the spire to get closer to God and then I saw two black wolves snarling in my direction and I knew they would eat me because finally I was seen and smelled but then I woke up. Scentless.
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