Posted by: sulya | 26 May 2009

Observed Through Sunshine

sunlight

Her eyes are the colour of honey and match the colour of her hair perfectly.  She’s back in Canada from Greece just a couple times a year and helps out in her family store – the one that keeps me in olives – when she’s around.  She works with energy.  She heals.  And there’s something about her…  If I ever consider switching teams I’d look her up and feel giddy if she had any interest.

***

Two dogs can smell me where I sit on the bench angled on the tiny perch above the ravine.  They sniff me on the air over their tall grey and rotting fence.  They do not bark at me but they keep an eye on me.  Do they know my period is just ending?  Do they know that I’ve been fighting a cold and losing as much as winning?  That I have almost no voice left after teaching 13 classes?  I am not silenced, though, and neither are the dogs.  They raise their noses, their black muzzles, to bark lustily at a squirrel who has dared to trespass in the highest branches of a tree in their yard.  I’d bark at the squirrel too, but I only know he’s there’s because the dog’s are barking at him.  I can’t see him.  And I wonder, these days, if I should make an effort to only bark at things I can see and smell myself.

***

She’s extra-leggy in towering heels and a draped soft yellow full-length evening gown with a structured bodice that shows a lot of shoulder and back – fits too low on her her chest, her long torso.  Her hair wears the illusion of softness in hard-sprayed cascading dark waves that barely move as she walks to the large limousine bus she will share with a bunch of other teens in costume, with alchol drunk to excuse and free, with joys and regrets she’s yet to live.  To others she may look beautiful, she may even be beautiful.  To me, she looks like she tries too hard even for an event that’s about trying too hard.  To me she looks more than vaguely like a highly-priced, air-brushed call girl but without that much purpose.  Though I do not wish her ill, I find I cannot help but lay a curse on her – the curse of perspective and thoughtfulness, more than would possibly fit in that dress with her…  Perhaps she can keep it in her hair until she needs it…

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