| Bait The wait dragged out, excruciatingly long till one tense woman could stand on the sidewalk, watch your approach and boldly attempt the dance of welcome. It wasn't unlike deck surfing, just pretending to do something dreamed up, with feet on a little bit more solid surface. Somehow, she didn't realize that she wasn't the only one performing but her genre didn't fit in well with the entire act at large. She felt kind of stupid when someone elbowed her, and shot her one of those side-long embarrassed, cutting kind of looks. Feeling compelled to step back, shut up, and conform, she did the opposite, and oh, how the price of it was extracted. Isn't it always? Beforehand, she had observed all the brainless rituals that we mortals do when we're not about to admit how badly we're setting ourselves up. All the external: thanks to her gold credit card. All the internal: rehash, remember; psyching herself up. She'd have laughed, if it weren't so damned repetitious. Watch her dance in circles. (aside) So I guess for this next part I'm supposed to say something terribly oblique and witty demonstrating my innate ability to hold myself separate, wash out the road rash, take a needle to myself & sew with no anesthetic, and not cry out or even grimace. No, not this time. Let's lance this bitch; it's ugly. Everything--to my face, in my face, that look on your face: compartmentalizing the now, boxing it up in a sugar-coated little package, and inviting me to never return. And on top of it I was so dazed and so undone falling all over myself yet by what I thought I'd just seen I even said "thank you." ...And around it goes. Is it any wonder that the poor girl is puzzled as to where all those pieces of her soul she gave away, or more like threw out there like fish bait are, at present? She knows damn well. They're still right there with her, transformed, or in diversiform, temporarily as bitter as the River Styx. She's pacing the bank, big-ass bottle of water purification tablets in one hand, a jug of brand X pain killers in the other, and a year's supply of Corona at her wide-planted feet. Letting go of these props, there's at least two obscene gestures she's feeling obliged to throw off, not to mention her brand new clothes-- a bunch of useless dreck. As it began, so it ends, where the one doesn't know the other's extracurriculars. With head thrown back now, streaky blond hair streaming all around, keys to her quintessence are taken back and its time to go skinny dipping. PamEhli2001 |
| May you have at least a few enchanted nights. I hold mine precious. |
| I may feel I should apologize to the 'you-know-who you-are' about whom this ("Bait") was written but rather, I will say "thank you" one more time. Yes. You know it. |
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| Since 1-9-03 |