Saturday, September 1, 2012

Blue Moon

Last night I was given a gift, at the beginning of the evening, the first of many: A man rode by on his roller blades; he had a white beard and a round belly, and he was swiveling at the hips like a little girl in a new party dress, his hands pointing out at his hips dancing instead of skating.
I spent the walk raspberry tongued and light wrapped in a scarf, finally feeling there was no place to rush off to. I walked like the apish man and loved that I made her laugh. The impression of the bicycle was more difficult, but I tumbled into somersaults until I fell apart. I was happy to make her laugh harder. The the full moon, that fickle bitch, tethered to my brain tricked me into thinking it was morning.
And I know, as sure as I know my own name, that I will know her when she is old, just as I knew her as a child.

And as for him... Not him, the burgeoning scoundrel invested in personal glory and casual sex, but him... the one I asked graciously to please leave my mind but he won't go, he slinked to the corner and let me alone for the evening, and I felt loved.

My dad once told while he sauteed a savory sauce for his pile of meat, "I never met a mushroom I didn't like."

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