Sorry for the late post guys! Work got crazy and I forgot to post on Friday, but since there is a dark week in the podcast, I thought I’d post a monologue from the “Bowling Alley” poems. This could be dedicated to many, but it originally was spawned from seeing a young couple at the bowling alley, obviously on a date and just as obviously scared shitless. I remember what those feelings were like and even now when you’re out with someone new, there is still that anticipation…
or Young Love
“Now here comes the most interesting part, eh?
“See now, imagine this: you are standing on the porch of a date that went moderately well. You stand smiling at beleaguered conversation. The contrivance of hospitality and general politeness. You come to a conclusion. You must take action! Things are brisk, people are fickle, derisive. you are expected a move.
“You feel jumbles of chaos and confusion in that moment. The person before you is perfect; an eloquent goddess perfumed with the scent of the earth. You need to be impetuous; how else can you ensnare a goddess? This is how you feel though; to an introverted, pensive onlooker you need ensnarement. The only thing that runs through your mind is that this being before you has to be charmed with equal measures of chivalry, honor, and audacity. The thought of love in return, at least in that moment, is but a fools dream, a fable told to children to ease and induce dreams of portentous avarice. You want it all.
“So standing in front of you is your catch and instead of dazzling, you’ve only made due. So the move that’s expected is pulled scratching and clawing from that reclusive, banal corner of your brain and saunters forward with pretentiousness of a despot ruling a land. You see an opportunity, so you reach out with your right arm and cradle the soft small of her back, holding her weight while decimating the space between you. Enter a wicked grin.
“Two things happen at this point. Number one is, not only are you surprised by the sudden and definite intimacy of the situation, suddenly conjoined,but number two; she is surprised as well. There is warmth and feeling in an otherwise empty void. A slight gasp of air escapes her…anticipation. That air is the seed of dread and doubt that threads into the synapses of your brain. ‘Did I move too quick?’ you think, but then she smiles.
“you cradle that warmth and you need more, you crave more, surprised gasp or not. The thirst has been triggered, the worm is on the hook and the fly is being cast. All that is left is to reel in with your left hand. You feel it raise of its own volition and your heart beats so fast you are almost lightheaded. Your arm is raising yes, but of the levity of the situation, not of your cognizant action.
“Yes, but see, the most dangerous part is coming. When the left hand touches her hair and slides it back over her right ear, smiles fade and heads tilt. Your heart does a peremptory flutter and your breath gets interchanged. An intoxicating combination of carbon dioxide, making each party, just that much higher.
“your left hand slides through the soft silken tresses and caresses the back of her head; almost perfectly ergonomic. But then apprehension takes hold, what if she pulls back?
“The fallacies of form and soul belie the synapses. This girl. This Goddess. Is here. Why me? What far reaching disturbances could she mistake as eccentricities in your insipid form?
“Then she does something totally unexpected. She makes the move while you console your ego. So taken aback, so incredulous at the action, so mirthful, you return her action with vigor.
“Though it takes no more than three seconds for this interaction it stamps on your soul the intonation of love and it is apparent and remembered.”
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