Goodbye

Out on the sidewalk, he cradles her face in his hands, kisses her neck. He looks at her, pats her hair, waves goodbye, boards the bus, takes a seat across from mine. We drive off and he gazes out the window, watching her until we turn the corner.

He looks around, pulls off his wedding band and tosses it in his briefcase.

I should mind my own business. Remind me.

Something unexpected

"Conservative", I decide.

Then she peels off her clothes. The Amazonian snake tattoo starts on her right foot, winding up her leg, her hip, her torso. It ends around her shoulder and chest, a piercing a glint in the snake's eye. I stare.

"I know" she says. "I wanted something unexpected".

At the risk of making this less interesting, I should mention I am in my gym's locker room. 

San Francisco, you will always surprise me.

Plan for the day

I'm on a hot, crowded bus.

Two grungy men sit in front of me. One has a small suitcase.

"Here is what we'll do" he says. "We will get off the bus. We will find a watering hole. We will get a big, cold beer. And we will color".

He opens a smidgen of the suitcase, revealing dozens of coloring books.

"You color inside the lines" he instructs. "I will color outside, and by end of the day we will see how we are doing."

He pulls out two packages of crayons from his jacket pocket. He hands one over.

"This is yours. It's new. All I did was throw out the pink one. I don't believe in pink."

This is why I don't drive into work.

Caulk gun

I want a caulk gun
To fill the cracks in my character
Before I go holding someone else responsible
For any ancestral discomfort.

I also want a crescent wrench
But only because it sounds poetic.