Demond Blake

bit by bit kia and ilaid in bedlistening toan album sheput on kia was waitingfor me tosay somethingbad aboutit since ihad somethingbad to sayabout everything “i know you’re going to hate that lyric”she’d say “go ahead, tell me how derivative thatsolo is” I’d say nothing the lyrics weremellow but themusic had abite to itand occasionallygave you akick in theass then it came “what do you tell people about us?” “i tell them we’re figuring each other out.what do you tell them?” “that we’re getting toknow each other” we were inchingto the crossroadsin ourrelationshipwhere definitionswere called forlabels we both hated allthat kia didn’t want tofeel like shewas owned bysomeone i guess she didn’tknow no matterwhat label wasput on apersonno one iscapable ofowning anyoneever kia’s a hard oneto get anythingout of she either seemsstoic orindifferent that was the shiti used topull it gave me theupper hand i was a cowardafraid ofgetting hurt now she has theupper handbut i doubtshe thinksof it thatway “do you think there’s a certainsomeone for everyone?”sheasked “like a soul mate” “yeah” “no” “you don’t think there’ssomeone out there better you?” “there’s alwayssomeone betterat a glance butin the end you’dwish you hadstayed with whoyou were with” “i usually distancemyself from someoneafter i’m physicalwith them” “i’m surprised youhaven’t done thatalready” the musicplayed on kia turned onher side toface thewall i laid on myback staringat the ceiling you seldom losea person allat once buta little bitat a time Demond Blake is a warehouse associate who has traveled the country working odd jobs and meeting various artists, musicians and nonconformists living life on the fringes of society. He lives in Colton, CA with his wife, a preteen son and a crazy old dog who acts like a puppy. 'Slackass' is his first novel.