jesus loves you, and your legs

i didn't even want to go out last night. by the time she picked me up i hadn't eaten or drank anything in a while so i had that nasty, starving breath. terry sheivo breath, death is just around the corner, in a few days anyway. when i was little and i had bad breath my dad used to ask me, "did something crawl in your mouth and die?" and i always invisioned this dead rat sitting at the back of my throat. in my mind the rat was always large, even though it never would have fit in my little throat space.
but went out anyway, got some food and water before hand though. at first we went to the hotel fig. with its eastern vibes, free chips and salsa, and seven dollar vodka gimlets. bullshit. i wanted to dip my feet in the jacuzzi because they felt like icicles, but the pool and jacuzzi were for registered guests only. i didn't need a room, just a warm spot to put my feet. we left anyway and went up sunset to the shortstop, where the bouncers are black and all of them are named justice. there the gimlets are four fifty. reasonable. while in back smoking my thirteenth cigarette of the night this foreign guy described smoking as feeling like the king of the world. which is true, and funny. because it makes you feel good, tough, invicible, yet it is killing you, slowly. the guy looked asian in the dark, but his accent made me think he was italian. that and his tight, mock turtleneck.
and so we danced. the dj wasn't playing the jams we wanted though. instead of the recognizable hits (there is really nothing like getting into the groove to get into the groove. this guys has to prove his love to her by how much he can get into it) and so there were a lot of smoke breaks, and a lot of step touching and sideway glances saying, what the fuck is wrong with the dj.
a guy who looked very much like jesus told my friend she had nice legs. which is true, but now even more true because jesus said it. and when they forced us to leave the bar when it was closing i was glad i'd come out, sorry it was time to leave, wishing jesus would have blessed my legs.