...hello, hello, hello, hello....
He looks up from fiddling with the hose on his tanker. His eyes gleam under fluffy eyebrows that match a shock of white hair, his mouth crooks beneath a fringe of white moustache. I hit him with the you're-the-most-beautiful-person-I've-seen-today smile when he makes eye contact. He returns it, full force, flashing and twinkling in surprise.
"Hey, Gurrrl," from the passenger window of a car in the left turn lane. I check him out, and giggle.
"Whatchoo laughin' at? Huh?"
Been a long time since I've been legitimately categorized as 'girl'.
"Not from where I'm sittin'. Guuuuuuuuurllllll...." he grins.
I grin. The light changes.
Rain sparkles the skin of my shoulders, cheeks, arms. The Questing Sniff prances smartly. On a worn sofa upon the add-on porch of a battered townhouse in a sketchy neighborhood are two young men.
"Lordy, good MAWnin'. And you are GOOD this MAWnin'. Mmm, hmm."
Don't be rude.
I have to draw the line somewhere.
(Smells Like Teen Spirit; Nirvana)