Naked with socks


Here we are, we are, you and I standing in the moonlight naked except for our socks. Our socks are there to keep our feet warm; do we need to keep our feet warm at this moment? Flashes through my mind and is gone, disappeared into this warm spring evening. Did you see Venus? Did you see how is snugged up into the new moon’s arms and they embraced? Did you see the spraying comet, the juice squirting into the air above the grapefruit, did you see the dust devils stirring, dancing and changing partners with every little wind?  Do you smell it? It is spring. Early but unmistakable in the strutting of the little roosters, the raucous group sex of the geese in their morning pond, the erotic overtures of the cats towards everyone. Cats know spring, feel it in their melting bones, in their wandering eyes.

If you were a girl who used aquanet to keep your hair in place, and aquafresh for your kissable mouth, and if you liked an aqua velva man, and you’d made a few mistakes after a couple rounds of aqua vit with the liberated few in your office pack, you would be about 78 now, looking back on a lifetime of lipstick and rat packs, and songs that seduce, that make a kissable girl like you melt like brown sugar in a pecan pie. You’d been dancing in a tavern on the nights when you got away from the tabernacle where you’d been studying and learning about the nature of sin and sacrament and sacrifice and this made you pack your tapestry carpet bag and drive to Sacramento with a girl named Edna, with whom you got an apartment with three other girls from a secretarial pool. And you did live the good life there, lipstick on the cigarette butt, a drink with the girls after work, a swimming pool in the apartment complex where you and Edna and your cohort of girlfriends could lie back in your yellow and blue two-piece suits in the Saturday sun. You still remember pineapple, pineapple sweet and prickling, the inside of your mouth burning with pineapple juice in gin. You still remember those heels with the ribbon that wrapped around your ankles, and the straight skirt that you smoothed down over your fine bottom as you sat down to take dictation. You still remember the moonlight hitting the blue water of the pool, and venus snugged up in the new moon’s arms, and you still remember standing out there in the early spring, 3 a.m., naked except for your socks, and smelling the bouganvillea and the wisteria, a little hint of honeysuckle and a high cloud skittering across that full moon, and you still remember taking off your socks, diving in, and coming back to the surface to kiss for the very first time.


2 Responses to “Naked with socks”

  1. 1 wordgauntlet March 5, 2009 at 8:51 am

    Brilliant, as always. Maybe there are some dangers in being brilliant, people start to assume.

  2. 2 Teresa March 6, 2009 at 6:36 pm

    Thank you, my dear. I’ll try to tone it down. 😉

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