the date

The Date. Sat in a pub talking to a woman of no substance other than she wore a skirt and had boobs. Pub closed, I was allowed to follow her home through dreary streets fine rain and yellow street light. I kissed her dry, bloodless lips We parted. Walking back to the seaman´s hotel. She stood by a bombed-out church and had damp hair. This is too absurd again; I was at a place I didn´t want to be. Money changed hands. My loneliness laughed hysterically.