“I’m shooting out of this room
Because I sure don’t like the company
You stop your preaching right there
‘Cause I really don’t care
And I’ll do it again”
We stayed up way too late and listened to record after record. We talked about just about everything and planned an epic adventure. I watched him drink himself to the bottom of two bottles of red wine (talking to him through the huge glasses). He knows a lot about things I would like to absorb. I drank my Farris with cranberry juice and listened. I was exhausted but I forced myself upright until he had enough sense to ring himself a taxi. I should have shovelled him out a path because while we spoke for all of those hours the snow just fell relentlessly.
His very long legs just carried him out and over it like it was a mild snow drift. I just shook my head. It must be nice to be tall.
I wanted to braid his hair while we were in the kitchen but I did not want to breach that invisible barrier. I know we hug goodbye with politeness, but twisting my fingers around in his hair would be different altogether. I have not braided anyone’s hair in ages… and he has so much of it.
I do not know how to proceed in any arena I am placed in. It is never a dance, it is as graceful as tripping on your shoelaces.
But, you know, these circumstances are a bit, um, awkward?
Still, it was a nice evening.