Sunday, July 22, 2012
such a plain girl, sitting in the shade, the market windows reflecting the July afternoon behind you, with a small salad and a vegan cupcake, and at your feet the brightest little dog with her Summer Cut, her coat the color of storm clouds, her eyes dark little jewels - you sit, straight, staring into the middle distance, one freckled arm at your side, the other holds your book open as the taut leash grows tauter, she wants you to Hurry Up, she has no time for bookish hot afternoons.
Friday, July 20, 2012
I followed the flouncy little girl out of the market and into the late afternoon burning sun and she was half skipping, half ta-da-look-at-me-ing in the crosswalk with her mother, who was carrying cotton grocery bags full of, i don't know, organic things i suppose, and the little girl said, "When you get married, your hair . . ." and then her mother stopped her with her one free hand as a car passed, and said, "WAT?" and the little girl said again, "When you get married, your hair . . ." and it drifted away, whatever it was and her mother said, "Kay, you are a Half-Glass-Full kinda gal, and I'm just a Half-Glass-Empty kinda gal . . . " and they went their way and I went my way and I wanted to know what her hair would be when she got married, I did, I really wanted to know . . .