Wednesday, February 02, 2005
SOUND THE ALARMS
Several alarms went off in my head the moment she strolled into Congo Grill last Saturday night.
The type of alarms that are tripped by a pretty face. A delicously creamy complexion. Flowing, raven hair. A fine figure. A mean tribal tatoo peeking out between the back of a little black shirt and straight-cut jeans.
I was with Souljacker that night. Beer, cigs and whatever it was we were talking about were all forgotten as we both fell silent out of sheer awe.
Then.
A different alarm went off when I saw her three companions.
She was on a double date.
And she had a girlfriend.
The type of alarms that are tripped by a pretty face. A delicously creamy complexion. Flowing, raven hair. A fine figure. A mean tribal tatoo peeking out between the back of a little black shirt and straight-cut jeans.
I was with Souljacker that night. Beer, cigs and whatever it was we were talking about were all forgotten as we both fell silent out of sheer awe.
Then.
A different alarm went off when I saw her three companions.
She was on a double date.
And she had a girlfriend.
