it's like falling in love all over again. Wednesday, Sept. 23, 2009 2:55 PM

As I write pithy things about my future, sitting under a tree whose leaves are yellow with predicting winter, making friends with the hordes of ladybugs upon my page, two boys on skateboards are showing off. They are friends, my age or slightly older. They are awed enough by my presence to do their tricks silently, no conversing, no banter, just the occasional curse as one trips or the other falls. Yet they are not so impressed that they put too much effort into their rides, it's casual but still intent of showcasing their obvious abilities. And now, a most amusing development. A mass of freshman advance from the high school across the street, heading for the soccer fields behind me, and it scared the blonde skateboarder away. He has completely abandoned his darker friend, who continues to perform for me, regardless of the pubescent shouts or the commands from the jock-stereotype gym teacher. I wonder why blondie left. The pressure of an audience more than one? Perhaps he and his dark friend have had a fight. Maybe the little spider running along my legs knows the answer. And, in the second my head was bowed to say hello to this minute arachnid, the dark friend disappeared. I was secretly hoping he would come talk to me... An attractive boy, an addition to my memoirs.
Want to go for a drink?
It's the middle of the afternoon.
So what? You can tell me what you've been writing as you watched me.
I don't know if that's a public topic of conversation.
Then we'll have the drink at my place.
Will it be an evening of clumsy, drunken passion? The substratum of another piece of this story? Or someone whose beauty is so bitter that I never bring it up again? But what does it matter, he's been gone for ten minutes already.

The freshmen are leaving, and are being replaced by a gaggle of kindergarteners from the french school down the way, lead by another jock-stereotype gym teacher. More than ten years older than me, he is gentle and kind, guiding the children as they swarm the playground equipment around me. He took them to Mars, Saturn, the moon, on a rocket ship of his own devising. He would be a tender, sweet lover. I wish I'd had a chance to tell him that I understood everything he was saying. I speak French. You should love me, whisper those words in my ears, I will get everything, I will appreciate it, I will moan it back to you...

Why do I want everyone to love me?

action or consequence