(no subject)
32. Watermelon
"You gotta, well ya gotta push with your breath." He explains to her again. Sitting on the dock with two slices of watermelon there is some serious talk about seed spittin' because that's some serious business. Older brother teaching little sister, it's a tough job, he's a tough kid. He takes a big bite of the fruit and does some chewing to locate the black seeds before puckering his lips. The seeds fly and land in the water by their feet.
"You've almost got it," he tells her when she tries to mimic him.
She beams, he is her world.
30. Drive
The old truck shakes and rumbles under her down the long road. Her head back against the cracked plastic covered headrest, her gaze blurry and glassy like the smeared truck window.
"You okay, Dag?" So far away, that voice, the voice with the smile. She never understands why he smiles at her and keeps her so far away. Okay, what a relative term, okay as compared to . . .?
The voices are quiet, her lips numb and the tips of her toes and scalp tingle. At her silence the man laughs a big rumble of a laugh and turns on the radio.
35. Sandals
The window in my bedroom directly looks over her backyard and even her bedroom window. I suspect her house is the same as mine, same windows, room placement, floors. I watch her in her backyard, working the grass and setting up lawn furniture. She entertains guests, she has guests. Not surprising, she is beautiful. She moves beautiful, eloquent, in her sundress and her soft, bare feet on the smooth grass.
I could listen to her but I refuse, noise would hurt the picture, the fantasy. Some things are better with the sound off. From my window I am happy watching.
"You gotta, well ya gotta push with your breath." He explains to her again. Sitting on the dock with two slices of watermelon there is some serious talk about seed spittin' because that's some serious business. Older brother teaching little sister, it's a tough job, he's a tough kid. He takes a big bite of the fruit and does some chewing to locate the black seeds before puckering his lips. The seeds fly and land in the water by their feet.
"You've almost got it," he tells her when she tries to mimic him.
She beams, he is her world.
30. Drive
The old truck shakes and rumbles under her down the long road. Her head back against the cracked plastic covered headrest, her gaze blurry and glassy like the smeared truck window.
"You okay, Dag?" So far away, that voice, the voice with the smile. She never understands why he smiles at her and keeps her so far away. Okay, what a relative term, okay as compared to . . .?
The voices are quiet, her lips numb and the tips of her toes and scalp tingle. At her silence the man laughs a big rumble of a laugh and turns on the radio.
35. Sandals
The window in my bedroom directly looks over her backyard and even her bedroom window. I suspect her house is the same as mine, same windows, room placement, floors. I watch her in her backyard, working the grass and setting up lawn furniture. She entertains guests, she has guests. Not surprising, she is beautiful. She moves beautiful, eloquent, in her sundress and her soft, bare feet on the smooth grass.
I could listen to her but I refuse, noise would hurt the picture, the fantasy. Some things are better with the sound off. From my window I am happy watching.