A stanza on why I am not a poet:
On my wounds.
A stanza on why I am not a poet:
On my wounds.
When I was younger, one of my teachers introduced me to the concept of a caramel nation. He was an oddball who also believed that humanity is heading towards becoming one eyed humanoids, but that’s beside the point. His caramel nation was simple, it would be the result of interbreeding of races resulting in caramel skin some numerous generations in the future.
It has been years since I have thought about the caramel nation. It’s a funny story really, beginning with a frappe and ending with a girl with caramel skin.
A word or two for the skeptics of love: carry on.
She mentally cursed Chase for what seemed the thousandth time that evening. As she did another rep on “The Mermaid” (otherwise known as the 45 Degree Back Hypertension for all you workout buffs), she came back up to find the trainer quickly look away to avoid eye contact. She sighed. This had been going on through the last hour and became increasingly awkward by the second. Screw you Chase, she thought as she went down for another rep, holding the 10 lbs as an anchor to her increasing annoyance.
It really was Chase’s fault. If he had switched gyms with her, she wouldn’t have signed up for a free promotional training session and if she hadn’t had the training session, she wouldn’t have been in this awkward position of having declined future sessions because she was essentially poor. Poor as in either food or training session-at this point-poor. Although, if she gave up food it might actually help her cause and help her trim down. She paused as she came up to contemplate the thought, then scrapped it as the steak dinner Ray promised to prepare for them tonight made a mental appearance. Going back down, she hoped he would like her mashed potatoes and garlic bread. Yum.
The mental fog of food lust dissipated as she came up to find another trainer staring at her. Great, the two trainers were probably best friends and had speculated on her “poor-ness”. Especially since she had stupidly mentioned to her trainer about her 2 jobs. Well, you try paying for art school supplies and then tell me how much you save. They were probably thinking she was a liar and her butt was too small. Gah.
If she really thought about it, she was probably the one being weird. Being strapped obviously sucked and she did not like explaining to people why she couldn’t do things. That made her bitchy and cranky. She decided not to think about it. She came to the gym to de-stress not think.
She finished her exercise and then went to the locker room to change. She got ready and slinked out of the gym, relieved to have missed the trainers on her way out. Her phone rang as she stepped out. A text from Ray popped up on her screen telling her he was half an hour away. With thoughts of food and her favorite guy filling her mind yet again, she blissfully walked home to take a shower.
Back at the gym as the two trainers finished with their clients, they stopped to chat.
“So?” Tom gestured at the Back Hypertension machine.
“Nah, she says she can’t afford it.”
“Ah, well, at least her form wasn’t too off. She probably won’t injure anything terribly left to her own devices.”
“That’s what I was thinking.”
“Was she giving you a weird stare?”
“Yeah, you too? I thought I was imagining it.”
“Nah, she was. Probably on that time of the month.”
“You’re probably right. Women get crazy with that shit.”
“So it looks like I peed on myself…just a fair warning.” Chase said over the phone.
“DID you pee on yourself?” She quipped.
“What the fuck? No, these dratted kids…”
“Wait! What? Kids peed on you? Not one, but collectively? What the hell?! How did that happen?”
“No, no, they didn’t pee on me. Hold up and let me finish the story first. Jesus.”
“So I got on the ferry half an hour ago with a cup of tea in my hands and saw a group of kids annoying the shit out of their mother. She looked so hassled. So I sat far, far away glad I didn’t have to deal with it. I kept an eye out though since kids are like ninjas and pop out of nowhere.”
“Okay so rowdy kids, got it. I don’t see how tea soaked pants come into play.”
“I am getting there woman!”
“So I am about to get off the ferry with quarter of the tea finished and BAM! the kids all crash into me and spill it all over my pants and bag.”
“Hahaha. That’s what you get for drinking tea and not coffee. Coffee for the win!”
“You’re such a kid. Well anyway, now everyone is looking at me like I peed on myself. I can FEEL the judgement.”
“Well you should tell them they wouldn’t be judging you if they knew what valiant act led to the pant wetting.”
“Uhh…getting trampled by unruly kids and an unfortunate cup of tea?”
“No that makes you sound wimpy. Say you saved a baby seal and got your pants wet in the process. Everyone loves a baby seal rescue.”
“Just my pants? Not my top? What seal was I rescuing and how so that it only wet my bottom half?”
“Seriously? I don’t know. You have a brain, use it. I came up with the idea, you make it work.”
“I see you.” He said, grinning at her from across the road as they waited for the light to turn green.
“Me too…my, my…maybe we should say a humongous seal instead of a baby one. The kids sure did a number on your pants.”
“Hanging up now.”
“Sure thang, sweet pea.”
“Oh no! Not the puns. Make them stop!”
Sunglasses are funny little devices. They shield your eyes from the sun (amongst other things) and make you feel all around invincible. So that when you are openly staring at someone, the tint of your glasses protects your eyes from detection.
Glasses on the other hand are transparent little fuckers that do nothing except make it possible for you, and for others, to see what you are seeing. I learned that the hard way, staring at a gift from God for an ungodly long time and realizing that I was wearing glasses not sunglasses. Now he must think I am a creep. Thanks glasses for screwing me over.
“Where are we going?”
“Just two streets. I promise.”
“You said that two streets ago, Ray.”
“You know at the rate you complain we should just change your name to the whiner.”
“Oh really? Fine I will stop complaining if you tell me where we are running off to.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”—–“Why is it that on every date we end up running to someplace?”
“Because. I gotta keep you on your toes princess. If I don’t you might actually stop to think and try to ruin this.”
He was right.
“Do you think I am fat?” She changed the topic.
“Well with all this physical exertion, I am wondering if it’s your way of telling me I need to lose a few pounds.”
He shook his head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Nope I’m your little miss sunshine. I like the princess by the way.”
“Speaking of princesses, we are here.”
They were facing an Italian pastry shop decked out in Christmas lights, beautiful music and fairytale vibe.
“Wow.” For once she was speechless.
“Wow, for once are you actually speechless?”
“Shut up while you’re ahead.” She hushed and grabbed his hand.
They walked into the restaurant hand in hand and sat down.
“You know next time, if you want, instead of running around I can think of other physical exertions for our next date.” He grinned, she looked at him for a long second “I know what your thinking and I am totally for it.”
“Of course. Laser tag here we come.” His groan and her snicker could be heard mingling with the music.