My starstruck moment of Julian Casablancas asking to bum a cigarette from me back in 2004 in front of the Tabernacle & my breathless struggling to keep internalized freakout at the moment as he signed my pack of cigarettes in return for the favor
“‘Someday’ is one of my favorite songs of all time.”
He grinned.
“Thanks.”
He went to walk off & the lizard brain deep in my skull took over & caused me to blurt:
“You’re a genius!”
He turned on his Cuban Heeled thrift store derby shoe & smiled again as he puffed on the Newport he’d gotten off me.
“No I’m not. I got lucky.”
He walked back into the club.
My teenage self was left to ponder of this koan from the poet laureate of genteel New York sleaze as a frozen wind started to build on the southern night.
I’m still bitter over one of my exes accidentally crushing the signed box while rearranging furniture in our apartment & all he offered was a half-hearted “sorry.”
Clem Flowers (They/ Them) is a poet, soft-spoken southern transplant, low rent aesthete, & dramatic tenor living in a mountain’s shadow in Home of Truth, Utah.
Nb, bi, and queer as the day is long, living in a cozy apartment with their wonderful wife & sweet calico kitty. Found on Twitter @clem_flowers