Love the Second Time Rev 1
I’d forgotten she thought, how stupid and obsessive I can be. I’m not quite sure I want to go back there, to that heart pounding, wardrobe despairing, self conscious, shy aggressive person I was so many years ago.
I’d forgotten do I eat more when I’m in love, or lose my appetite. If I eat more, is it healthy food or greasy onion rings from Angels? If I lose my appetite will I get sick or anemic or look like an escapee from the holocaust, or will I look like I’m 18 again, wearing midriff baring tops and dolphin shorts, everywhere.
I’d forgotten that my cell phone has a shitty voicemail that loses calls and muffles people’s voices so they become a bunch of gibberish. I am dreading the hours I’ll waste staring at it, willing it to ring, or listening to a message over and over. Is it my mother or him? Is it my dentist or a telemarketer trying to scam me out of cash?
I’d forgotten that I was no longer wrinkle free and now resembled the Painted Desert more than Las Vegas-0 stretch marks coloring my skin horizontally and vertically. I’d forgotten all the wisdom I’ve gained in all these years, it’s all gone away in an instant. Hands sweaty, heart racing, lips chapping, eyes itching, I open the door. It’s him. Hi, I say, it’s nice to see you. I grab by bag and we head to the car. Where are we headed I say. It’s a surprise; I hope you’ll like it. We smile at each other or rather keep smiling. I don’t know about him, but I’ve been smiling since he crossed my path. Hope he stays awhile.
He opens the door for me and scoots around the car sliding into the driver’s seat, and starting the ignition in one flowing move. Impressive. Oh yeah, he says pulling the parking brake on again, these are for you. To be continued
©2011 sharonjcorrigan all rights reserved, every single one of them
I’d forgotten do I eat more when I’m in love, or lose my appetite. If I eat more, is it healthy food or greasy onion rings from Angels? If I lose my appetite will I get sick or anemic or look like an escapee from the holocaust, or will I look like I’m 18 again, wearing midriff baring tops and dolphin shorts, everywhere.
I’d forgotten that my cell phone has a shitty voicemail that loses calls and muffles people’s voices so they become a bunch of gibberish. I am dreading the hours I’ll waste staring at it, willing it to ring, or listening to a message over and over. Is it my mother or him? Is it my dentist or a telemarketer trying to scam me out of cash?
I’d forgotten that I was no longer wrinkle free and now resembled the Painted Desert more than Las Vegas-0 stretch marks coloring my skin horizontally and vertically. I’d forgotten all the wisdom I’ve gained in all these years, it’s all gone away in an instant. Hands sweaty, heart racing, lips chapping, eyes itching, I open the door. It’s him. Hi, I say, it’s nice to see you. I grab by bag and we head to the car. Where are we headed I say. It’s a surprise; I hope you’ll like it. We smile at each other or rather keep smiling. I don’t know about him, but I’ve been smiling since he crossed my path. Hope he stays awhile.
He opens the door for me and scoots around the car sliding into the driver’s seat, and starting the ignition in one flowing move. Impressive. Oh yeah, he says pulling the parking brake on again, these are for you. To be continued
©2011 sharonjcorrigan all rights reserved, every single one of them
Comments