jump to navigation

Tapdancing On the Moon July 10, 2010

Posted by WillardWhyte in Musings, Prose.
Tags: , ,
add a comment

Saw a dog today chasing his tail in the dust spreading around a shack of a food shop along a highway the plainish woman in the blue Beemer doesn’t know. She’s just out there using it; you know, piling in with the coffee and spudnuts, iPod dangling and tangling on those earrings he scarfed just a WalMart short of forgot, and if there’s imagery flowing  it’s of some space under some tree in some lot that’ll maybe keep the leather from bleaching and killing the resale.

All eye of the tiger as she boogies on past that dog right there near the smoker, chasing something back there. Maybe an itch that just cropped up, maybe just because it got in the way somehow, like a notion that snuck in with a smile then set up shop in your brain for a fortnight.

Probably, that tail’s just been bugging that dog a dab a day, not really anywhere near enough to bust up his business. Just creeping up one soft furry paw at a time and today it just went boo and he was fixed to stop panting and barking and jumping and whatever else he otherwise would have been doing as I drove by, had he not opted to get his teeth around it instead.

So away he spun, kicking up a little nutty mutty dirt storm around that poor man’s tub of softening ribs and making me wonder what kind of attitude would result when the man trudged out into the swelter with his dish of sauce and brush and got a eyeful of the afternoon batch all crusty with molasses and parking lot crud.

But I’m not gonna ditch wondering, or go back. Doesn’t work that way, sad to say.

I’m not different really from that dame in the Beemer with the shifter in drive thinking of park, somewhere up ahead where she isn’t. I’ve been piling down that highway too, headed upwind just like her trying to get there. Too hard sometimes, no most of the time because that’s the way the machine is, has been since the day the doc took you by the feet bunched in one hand and smacked your ass to get you to hurry up and suck air and you did because that f***ing hurt and you needed it to scream. (more…)

Advertisements