It’s a little before 6 as I make my way to the Park, welcomed by a young raccoon.
He’s ambling towards his tree, in no hurry, like Huckleberry Finn.
If he had a fishing pole and a banjo, it wouldn’t surprise me.
As I stretch my calves not 15 feet from him, he seems totally unconcerned by my presence, eyeing the trunk of his tree as if to say, fuck, these stairs are gonna kill me one day.
I watch him scooch up, inch my inch, when suddenly he stops when a head appears out of the tree window.
His mother, a girl friend? I think, if I see boxer shorts and a coupla cans come flyin’ on down, then I’ll know who’s waiting up for Rocky.
I watch him brave the consequences, before going on my way.
Towards the middle of my run, I see a rather robust girl in bright pink tights, like a huge chrysanthemum in flight. I lose her for a while, till I barrel around west, where there she is, by the cut-off, dancing her little heart out.
So inspired, I start to dance too, thinking what the hell, bumping like it’s 1975, against a tree.
When she sees me, she stops and yells, “Hey, what do you think you’re doin’?”
I yell back, “What does it look like I’m doin’? I’m dancin’, like you.”
She put her hands on her hips that reminds me of a cookie jar, my Auntie Ida once had, and says, “I’ve never seen any dancin’ like that.”
“And I say, ‘Till now,” before zooming away.
Hey, there’s plenty of room on that dance floor, there cupcake…bump…bump…bump.
I'm just a girl who likes to write slightly on slant. I've had a career in fashion, dabbled in film and to be honest, I don't like talking about myself. Now my posts are another matter so I will let them speak for themselves.
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