Lois used to say, “if it fits, then it’s suppose to go there”. I lost touch with her after she took up with that flashy and fleshy realtor, wore cargo pants all winter and summer, with business cards, pens, calculators, everything under the sun was in those pockets, he was a fucking office supply and stationery store, probably because he had a dark, windowless and moldy office with lousy internet connection, only time he read was the news pinned up in front of a urinal at the the Fox and the Rabbit, a faux Irish watering hole, and a hole it was, the holiest of holes with hockey sweaters pined up here and there and out front littered with butts and old gum.
But Lois, salt of the earth, she was, drank like a sailor and practiced hot yoga every Monday, Wednesday and Friday at noon, don’t know who her mother could possibly have mated with to produce such a finely flawed vixen, deviant and lost soul, she’d show up glowing still from the exertion and heat, pores all cleaned out, “your skin is your body’s largest organ”, she’d say, “well, maybe not in your case, cowboy”, yeah, she had a way with words, could turn a phrase as well as a few heads.
I’d have let myself in, laying on her double bed, drinking instant coffee and watching afternoon TV - reruns of old situation comedies, I was between calls from serving summons, too early for night court, too late to go back to my own place across town in soon to be rush hour traffic. I smoked then. I’d have a smoke.
And then maybe Philadelphia Cream Cheese on Premium Plus crackers, salty tops. We’d go out onto the balcony and watch the sun set and the traffic build.
Loading comments...