River
sunday 1245 hrs; the dangly feet make out place by Riverside Studios
wearing a little dress is lovely in summer, but it makes dangling feet over the water just that much harder. it makes little bits of the concrete river parapet press into the underside of my knees and makes my thigh a little bit grimy. rub it gently, and dirt balls come off. sailors 6 feet below grinningly ogle while I read my book and think about whether the weather will hold. Later in Bishops Park, SW6, I lie on a grassy slope, delicious in its coolness in the shade. But my skirt threatens to fly up, much against gravity, and my slightly grimy thighs blush. I get over it and set off to find the perfect red dress in all the charity shops in all of Fulham, but the sun beats down down down as I walk 'inland'.. and without the river breeze, I cannot face it.
monday 1845 hrs; bench in the park on millbank
crazy: she is 46! and has 3 kids! one is 17! my age! [crazy is 34] Will she find out i tried to kiss her friend after i took her number?
me: hmmm... quick, call her before she has time to think.
crazy: X-(
(crazy has to leave and go home and cook and be a good flatmate; he starts adjusting his bag and stuff)
me (crafty): ok now go home. i have to fill my form... well? go!
crazy: when you say things like that i feel like staying and bothering you. (mumbles) maybe that's what you want.
me: maybe (grin)
monday 2145 hrs; the dangly feet make out place by Riverside Studios
the Thames between Putney Bridge and Hammersmith Bridge is reflectively a shiny metallic blue.. with ripples; the colour of gratitude - something you feel when your glass is full and you've just drunk deeply of it. Amy and I take a bottle of wine down to the river, complete with plastic containers shaped like wine glasses. the sky turns from blue to a deep black and the lights in the water brighten. she is very smitten with someone new, and her reveries almost make me reverse my no one-night-stands decision. you're only young once after all. she goes on about stuff, i watch her fondly, the sweet kid. a motorboat speeds by, making waves. I breathe in deeply, and my cup runneth over.
wearing a little dress is lovely in summer, but it makes dangling feet over the water just that much harder. it makes little bits of the concrete river parapet press into the underside of my knees and makes my thigh a little bit grimy. rub it gently, and dirt balls come off. sailors 6 feet below grinningly ogle while I read my book and think about whether the weather will hold. Later in Bishops Park, SW6, I lie on a grassy slope, delicious in its coolness in the shade. But my skirt threatens to fly up, much against gravity, and my slightly grimy thighs blush. I get over it and set off to find the perfect red dress in all the charity shops in all of Fulham, but the sun beats down down down as I walk 'inland'.. and without the river breeze, I cannot face it.
monday 1845 hrs; bench in the park on millbank
crazy: she is 46! and has 3 kids! one is 17! my age! [crazy is 34] Will she find out i tried to kiss her friend after i took her number?
me: hmmm... quick, call her before she has time to think.
crazy: X-(
(crazy has to leave and go home and cook and be a good flatmate; he starts adjusting his bag and stuff)
me (crafty): ok now go home. i have to fill my form... well? go!
crazy: when you say things like that i feel like staying and bothering you. (mumbles) maybe that's what you want.
me: maybe (grin)
monday 2145 hrs; the dangly feet make out place by Riverside Studios
the Thames between Putney Bridge and Hammersmith Bridge is reflectively a shiny metallic blue.. with ripples; the colour of gratitude - something you feel when your glass is full and you've just drunk deeply of it. Amy and I take a bottle of wine down to the river, complete with plastic containers shaped like wine glasses. the sky turns from blue to a deep black and the lights in the water brighten. she is very smitten with someone new, and her reveries almost make me reverse my no one-night-stands decision. you're only young once after all. she goes on about stuff, i watch her fondly, the sweet kid. a motorboat speeds by, making waves. I breathe in deeply, and my cup runneth over.
Comments
In his black armour
the house-fly marched the field
of Freia's sleeping thighs,
undisturbed by the soft hand
which vaguely moved
to end his exercise.
And it ruined my day --
this fly which never planned
to charm her or to please
should walk boldly on that ground
I tried so hard
to lay my trembling knees.
(From: Let Us Compare Mythologies)
aimless- :D
mister pussytease- ;-/
Side note: Talk about inspiration for poetry...I mean the one time I don't want to be thinking about poetry is when "the soft hand
vaguely moves to end its exercise".
Sheesh!
./w