Thursday, May 31, 2012

Forests and Fairies

So, there is this little bridge I pass on my walk home, and this afternoon, there was this guy on it, fishing. It was really nice out today, hot but bearable, but he was still way too over dressed for being right out in the sun. He had on heavy work pants, his only compensation being the rolled up sleeves of his black t-shirt. He was wearing Doc Martins, I’m positive they were Doc Martins, because I saw the yellow stitching. I saw a lot of things even though I really only got a good look at him for a few seconds, and I had my glasses off. He looked like my old boyfriend Henry from my story “Hard.” A skinhead! Fishing! In a quaint little town that’s never forgotten it’s past and every Memorial Day places a wreath on the gravestone of its founding father. My primal urge to mate was fierce. As I passed by him, stepped over his white bucket and tackle box, I said to myself, “It can’t end like this, I can’t just pass him, continue on my course, just go on with my day, knowing that he’s down there. He and I atleast have to talk. We atleast have to share one word. I need to know if he’s jailbait. I need to know what his teeth look like. I need to know if he’s a poser.” So I willed the universe, saying, “ Universe, today’s the day. I want you to lay down your cards, and if there is any magic out there, if there are any forests or fairies to be found, I want this member of the male species to hop in his car and come after me, or in line with my darker fantasies, make it that he somehow knows it’s ok to follow me home." So putting all my trust in the universe, I crossed the street and continued on my course. I played with my phone as I walked, every once and awhile looking over my shoulder to where he stood, getting smaller, imagining that he and I were making eye contact, because maybe we were, I didn’t have my glasses on and everyone’s a blur after about twenty feet. I got home and put my books away, brushed my teeth, neatened up a bit around the house. So what do you think? If he’s not here by 10 pm tonight, should I lock the door?