The 3 He's

He promised to improve my running, we'll start tomorrow. It's a roundabout path towards the thing I sought but did not seek: a desire for someone to see something I could not see & to want it for the both of us until I could know Want. I'm sitting at a desk alongside someone who is passionate about fitness. He's teaching me his business, all technical new age, a series of entries, interactions, the daylight purging from above the Henderson Bookstore, calling to say Goodbye, Love, Sky.

Then, I'm sitting in his deflated sofa, as he makes me espresso; reminisces me a child with my plastic bag of cheerios, too busy to eat a full meal. Hands me a granola bar; I'm ok! I'm not ok! We talk stability. How to keep the unstable at bay.

Then, I'm running in the woods & it's a cold beautiful, bright blue & brisk, legs aching. Then I'm lifting & every person in the gym is creepy. How can every single person in a gym be creepy?There's the guy with the crooked something she saw once & how can I look at him & not think, "crooked something." Descriptions are awful. I've found I cringe a lot more. For too many years I lived like, Come on and shock me! I'm unshockable. Now I've taken a page from the innocent - oh dear me. I feel it is fleeting.

Then, I'm pouring $50 bottles of wine, earning paper for adventure. I make pizza, part of the ever-evolving menu: blue cheese & bacon. I say, "Here's my best." They say, "What was wrong with your first?" I say, "You get better the more you make." He says, "Your pizza's great." He's just come from Spain, we talk Spain, we talk about the food of Spain & how in love I am with it, and he thinks my pizza's great? The word "great" resonates as if it holds the power of "mouthwatering."
Pour myself a glass of Dinastia Vivanco Crianza's 2008 Rioja, eat a Muffaletto, the tapenade seeping into the bread on purpose.