Sunday, May 2, 2010

well, a steelhead salmon or a mud bank carp

We spent the day at the beach: sarong sushi feast, seaside nap, baptismal dip in the frigid Atlantic. All this with Paul Simon on the tape deck, the Met game on AM radio, books crosshatched over the blanket.

I gave up. And I give in. We read Bukowski together on the train.

Walking hand and hand through warm New York at night, I wore his cardigan, wrapped it around me over midnight omelettes at a diner on 14th Street. We slept till 2 pm.

God only knows where or if or for how long.

I will weather his hesitation. (Men are delicate origami creatures) It doesn't matter who he is or where he's at. For now, it is enough. For once, I find I have the balls to leap.

And a really good new therapist–you know, on standby.


Anonymous said...

Men are delicate origami creatures. Baloney!

Have fun, enjoy the love and lit but don't kid yourself that some how he's going to grow up while you wait.

Scarlet-O said...

You should write for magazines. Columns, essays, kinda stuff... actually nah... you COULD though.

Phoenix said...

Men ARE delicate - I think that's why they spend so much of their lives fumbling around accidentally cutting everyone else with their razor blade mercurial mood swings.

Good therapists should always be on stand-by... I would say Bukowski is an interesting choice with which to christen a romantic relationship (I would have gone with ee cummings or maybe even Dickinson if I were desperate) but perhaps it meets the tone of the relationship a bit better. I'm just saying... Chuck was a smidge bitter.

justsomethoughts... said...

very very very good

Anonymous said...

Are you the cat, or the mockingbird?

Scarlet-O said...

::bow, bow, a la Wayne's World unworthy bow:: New therapist? OY VEY.