XX (![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} dans_la_reine) wrote,@ 2007-08-01 06:40:00 |
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sun-ripened...
It was the second, or maybe the third early morning of the late June day. The first was for commuters to Toronto, some of them left by 5am which was the time for Chloe's first feeding. The second early morning was after she'd fall back asleep, I'd pick up a book and read. The third was after nine, the time when local workers had to be at their jobs. In the quiet moments between lifestyles I'd set my pretty pretty baby into her stroller and walk deserted streets.
I always chose Central Park Blvd because there were bends in the road (for interest) and lots of trees. I laugh at how I thought of the trees, city-girl desperate for forest, how sparse they were, how much distance between each thin trunk.
The tomato garden caught my imagination. It took up the entire yard. It was like the gardens downtown, those small wartime plots on Dovercourt, each front yard a kitchen garden. But we weren't in Toronto, so here among the manicured grasses was a piece of other, I was enchanted.
I had seen the old couple out there puttering, third early morning wasn't the only time of day I walked the streets. I was walking because my body made me unhappy. I like my bones coated with curves but I like them firm, strong with underlying muscle. Having had a May baby all my flesh was loose, sagging, foreign on my body, something to be gathered up and cut off. But, I promised not to be morbid. and so I walked. and as walking is it was very nice.
One walk you appeared, a welcome sight with tanned skin and lean muscles, your dark curling hair, the sidelook, the smile, my god, Italy, Portugal, Greece... within days we were exchanging words. I still remember the first ones "Out taking your baby for your daily walk?" I remember the way you looked at me, as if I was most beautiful. One day I stopped and we talked. One day you walked with me. One of our last days we sat in the park.
There was nothing untoward, unless you count our skin humming in anticipation of contact, or our smiles, or our eyes. Unless you count what didn't happen.
today's colours brought you to mind kiss,
XX
It was the second, or maybe the third early morning of the late June day. The first was for commuters to Toronto, some of them left by 5am which was the time for Chloe's first feeding. The second early morning was after she'd fall back asleep, I'd pick up a book and read. The third was after nine, the time when local workers had to be at their jobs. In the quiet moments between lifestyles I'd set my pretty pretty baby into her stroller and walk deserted streets.
I always chose Central Park Blvd because there were bends in the road (for interest) and lots of trees. I laugh at how I thought of the trees, city-girl desperate for forest, how sparse they were, how much distance between each thin trunk.
The tomato garden caught my imagination. It took up the entire yard. It was like the gardens downtown, those small wartime plots on Dovercourt, each front yard a kitchen garden. But we weren't in Toronto, so here among the manicured grasses was a piece of other, I was enchanted.
I had seen the old couple out there puttering, third early morning wasn't the only time of day I walked the streets. I was walking because my body made me unhappy. I like my bones coated with curves but I like them firm, strong with underlying muscle. Having had a May baby all my flesh was loose, sagging, foreign on my body, something to be gathered up and cut off. But, I promised not to be morbid. and so I walked. and as walking is it was very nice.
One walk you appeared, a welcome sight with tanned skin and lean muscles, your dark curling hair, the sidelook, the smile, my god, Italy, Portugal, Greece... within days we were exchanging words. I still remember the first ones "Out taking your baby for your daily walk?" I remember the way you looked at me, as if I was most beautiful. One day I stopped and we talked. One day you walked with me. One of our last days we sat in the park.
There was nothing untoward, unless you count our skin humming in anticipation of contact, or our smiles, or our eyes. Unless you count what didn't happen.
today's colours brought you to mind kiss,
XX
