Lips barely parted barely started
showing front and back with long brown hair shimmering glimmering glowing water
rippled it dare not show her reflection as sun beat down on her scalp the trees
were green with envy short denim shorts rolled up short below the hip golden
buttons burst vitality and a sleeveless shirt done out in white with a heart of
crimson sharply marked on the left side of her chest a faint curve showing
where the eyes were going of every man and god surrounding the pond the kids in
the park stopping swinging to stare as birds flutter softly to nearby branches
to swing and sing and stare a melodious chorus resonating in the ears of every
man there and women walked on without a care to stop and stare pushing prams
that rolled on barely knowing the babies watching their feet rise into the air
to block the sun
her feet encased in light white
plimsolls with a delicate lace at the tip for no reason other than to look
pretty her pretty little feet tiptoeing hardly knowing nor caring about all the
people staring but she was aware of eyes like the sun glaring always glaring
and dashing off the faint necklace collared around her collar and moving down
there is a bra strap barely showing from the right her right black as night the
rest is showing through her shirt beyond the crimson heart
her heart was beating twice as fast
as the wings of the birds fluttering from a nest on the tallest branch of the
smallest tree
they see the tanned leg tights the
men as they sit staring taking her in they want in she sits on a bench out in
the open and they win she is staying and her green eyes meet her worried weary
feet and the sun bounces off her eyes unable to hold them like a tree
struggling to hold a leaf in autumn her eyes like spring and leap away from the
world no make-up holding but red lipstick red lips barely parted barely started
showing her nose is small as a pebble prism glued between her rouge cheeks and
her green eyes focus tiny pupils squinting at her feet encased enclosed
imprisoned tears magnify her pupils jet black pupils
she closes her eyes and squeezes a
tear to the ground a heavy raindrop she peels off the right shoe slowly
unlocking her foot legs outstretched and sets it on the bench by her right hand
then rips off the left shoe as in one motion it arcs like a rainbow and soars
somersaulting into the middle of the pond the tears build as streams frame her
nose and mouth the lipstick splits as she bites her bottom lip her right with
nails of green pulls and peels the shoe from the seat and throws it with all
her force into the shallow end grazing the tender reeds that houses the ducks
that scatter and soar.
Can I help you? he burst out in a
frightfully monotonous voice. She was bent over head in her hands below a
cloudless sky where ducks squawked judgmentally at her and the birds’ song
turned to harsh mocking. I was just feeding the ducks, his grumble fills the
void as he attempts to raise her head out of her hands and see the green that
caught his eye. Don’t cry.
Her head is shaken from side to side
as she frees it from the hands and forces it up turning her face up to the sky
tweaking her nose and widening her eyes impersonating a meerkat in the wild a
meerkat aware of a predator
first she sees his dirty brown clogs
placed in a V-shape two steps from her bare feet then his faded black jeans
with a hole in the inside of the right knee looking as though it had been
grizzled in the preceding seconds by a dog rat mouse the white belt and silver
buckle hugging tight above the waist then a black and red chequered shirt
tucked into his overtight jeans overstretched and fit to burst the buttons
bulge oink! the pig has hairy arms coated in fine blond hairs topped with a
dirty brown blanket but soft hands hang at the end never a day of hard work in
all his many days then his neck stretched out stiff and tense with the chin
tweaked up to show a grizzled untamed neck beard looking up there was no beard
elsewhere just sideburns joining his neck to the top of his head where a bald
patch acted like a pond in the middle of blond hair going grey and dying a
smooth cone of hair collected in the middle of his head towards the forehead
crinkled and dry lips thin and lacklustre nose crooked held on with
double-sided sticky tape his nostrils sad wide and eager either side of a
sunken bridge but her eyes cried out for his eyes all she wanted to see his
eyes the eyes of someone to mean something looking at her eyes, but his eyes
lay hidden behind a pair of black sunglasses.
Sorry I scared them off is what she
thought she said but what she really said was uh-huh which wasn’t the piece of
conversation he was looking for but he would look some more. Do you mind if I
sit, he said as he sat where the shoe had been that hurt her foot and scared the
ducks. I’m Kevin, he threw forth in a second, in case you were wondering. The
bench was wooden and peeling, in desperate need of repair. They sat in silence
and thought of speech and reply. It was Friday. A school day. A possible topic
for conversation if Kevin took the plunge and this young girl took the bait but
she wouldn’t and he knew it and her tears gathered in pools at the sides of her
mouth. I’m 48, he said, you’re what, she thought, I’m 48, he said in a softer
tone into his barely buttoned shirt on his beary hairy chest, and never
married. She pointed her left ear at the ground and rested her head on her left
hand so she could face him open-mouthed to show her mistreated teeth grimy as
moss-covered tombstones. Kevin furrowed his brow and covered his chin with his
left hand brushing the hairs on his neck.
The leaves of the nearby trees
wavered as Kevin’s right hand faltered. The wind had picked up and clouds were
moving into view. Please show me your eyes, she begged as his head jumped to
the right from shock of the first subtle tones passing through her lips carried
by a crowded line of dust and wind. She sensed a weakness behind those shades
as infinite shades of colour flowed through her mind. The glorious glimmering
green of a mid-March afternoon brown like the leaves in late October hazel like
the trunk that cradles the breaking branches pure black like the darkest
reaches of the soul.
No, he said, no I can’t. The sun, he
said, it hurts my eyes, and it did no doubt hurt his eyes as he squinted
through his shades and threw his right hand on his brow to mimic a cap and
shelter his sensitive eyes from the cruel sun. Mean, evil sun. It had always
been a pain to him, he thought, throwing him into a sneezing fit on his first
date with the forever loveable Christy Miller, a girl he had admired forever
before and forever after. The sun always made him sneeze so he always wore
shades and was always cautious. He can still picture that first date. Her with
her long brown hair up in a ponytail, a long ponytail protruding and curling
like a gnarled and twisted fire poker, no frayed edges or stray untamed hairs.
The sun was low and glowed, a bright spot-light behind her head blocking out
her eyes. He remembers sweating and forgetting, if only for an instant, what
colour her eyes were. Looking at this young girl’s eyes he saw the eyes of the
girl he loved, green like the trees and fields of spring. And then the sun.
The sun beat down on everyone just
the same, but as it moved lower and the clouds grew dense Kevin began to lower
his head further and she took out a pen scribbled a note and a number left a
trail with her feet and her pen the dust moved up around her back and lower
where his eyes were drawn his shaded eyes. He sat there a while longer and
glanced at the note and the number in short spurts fearing that, if he were to
touch it, it would disappear, a figment of his imagination.
The clouds had now gathered in a dark
grey plaster-mould and the rain bore down on his neck wetting the tip of his
spine. The note was safe in his pocket.
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