There was a common sign between them that allowed for a signature start to the whole situation. Not
to mention this was springtime and thus stamped natural (if not organic).
The whole situation was damn near really wonderful. Like a blending of tapioca and iced tea, sucked
up together inside of wide square stretch of colored straws.
There was a common home with a common area with a vending machine deplete of a common brand
of common cookies they shared a taste for. One drank too many colas. The other began to drink more
colas in the presence of the one. The one began to ride bicycles with the other. The other began to twist
her fashion sense according to the other’s well-received fashion statement.
There was an age discrepancy of many years, between the two, and an ethnicity differential. However,
this was not a corporate enterprise and therefore these particular items became negligent, and were neglected
in favor of the coincidence of paths in the shining moment they shared. A shining moment in a horribly
unpolished era, a cash-strapped state, an overpoliced city, in an under the table kinda street mentality
All in all there was spark and tension, which kept the time they spent together from sagging or dragging or otherwise dripping beads of ennui or loneliness, as they each had been accustomed.
There was a way in which most acquaintances of both of them could not bear the sight of them together, and
efforts came from all surroundings to separate them from one another. This only ignited a rebellious fire
licking the planted walls and burning through to connect above cardboard flimsy attempts
to box them out.
They both had moments of feeling horribly depressed, sometimes coinciding with days they missed doses
of antidepressants they each were prescribed. They both had dreams of making music and moving masses,
and neither had seen much success in the latter of the two. They cast empathic channels toward one another, and rolled courageously through the process of becoming vulnerable and allowing trust to form and embrace them.
The connection was so young, you could expect a slight panic in either one, were a call or text not returned
within 24 hours.
They were both honest with one another on a feeling level. He was a man and often turned on by her. She was turned on by him, but not always reciprocating his desire to get with her. He, too, had times of turning away from her advances, yet spared a catastrophe of hurt by simply sharing how there were times one could not be turned on by anything no matter what.
She would not necessarily undress or anything like he might hope or suggest, other times, and they often might laugh through a conversation in which he would tell her what he liked and she would then give him some of that, in lieu of what he maybe hoped to receive.
He told her for instance he liked it when she swore.
She in turn told him fuck or damn or hell! so and so and such in such, etcetera…
Alot of this was provocative and sexually explicit in nature, and don’t you wish you knew exactly how so?!
She ranted against the corporate lean of democracies, and the ineffective mannerisms of modern urban living. He in turn stared wide eyed and loved her for this. For her passion.
She in turn laughed and cursed like he said he liked, and he laughed back. She turned him on this way.
She got turned on by his turn
on… this was all
damn near really wonderful.