16 degrees, she laughed, stepping out of several layers of clothes and slipping behind a tree. The tree smiled, dropped a few leaves and looked the other way. The sun waxed lyrically, sang to the sky and blushed in the early light. The grass paused. It’s only natural, remarked the mountain. Forms in forms, light and shadows, nothing more, nothing less. Oh there’s more, tittered the tree, I can feel her breast.
The fork twisted. It was clearly bored with itself and needed to create a bit of drama. The wall stared the other way. It was certain that no going back would set things straight.
It’s the spaces between,
Advised the tree.
You have to know what you are looking at.
The blue-eyed sky
Held her head high, stayed mute.
It’s the beyond,
Called the sea,
Freedom is not an illusion.
It’s ebb and flow.
She turned from the mountain,
The city glittered below.
Don’t be long, whispered Nature,
You know seasons change.
It’s the spaces within,
Bark prodded her back,
You have to know what you’re looking at.
I have an inappropriate crush on you, she wrote. 9 times. It was a glitch, thanks to the vagaries of the unsmart phone.
He reminded her and added that he read it. 9 times. Thinking that there may have been something else hidden in the text.
Exposed. They laughed.
After the fifth glass of wine she left her bike propped against the tree. Unlocked. They took a cab to a bar and opened the door on all things unsaid. It didn’t matter any more.
At 3am she walked home. Her breath damp. Like the grass in the deserted park. He stayed. Someone had to talk to the whiskey.
She whispered sweet nothings into her pillow then rolled over into a dreamless sleep.
I’m feeling under-pashed she said with a smile on her lips. I wanted to use that phase! The perfect opener to a can of worms. My friend traced the dusty ground with her bare toes and looked me directly in the eyes. You can, she said, you know a crush is never inappropriate.
She bent and folded
In places hard to reach….