Did I Think That Out Loud?




When the goddess of love and the god of mischief decide to get it on, I know in my heart they attack public places. Not a single doubt in my mind, and after reading this there won’t be a doubt in yours, either.
Don’t you love lines? Bunch of people waiting, looking around, trying not to look self-conscious. It doesn’t even matter what line you’re standing in, once the dynamic duo go to work.
Images of love, warmth, and intimacy. Nice to be remembered like that, I suppose. On the other hand, if I were waiting in line at the carwash I’d rather repeatedly close my hand in an automatic window than repeatedly remember some of those moments. Besides, that wouldn’t be nearly as much fun for, say, Venus and Loki.
Post office. Running errands as treasurer for a local library volunteer organization, I’m dressed pretty far down. Jeans, men’s white button-down shirt coming down to my knees with smokes in the pocket, but a very adult bun containing my brown and blood-red hair. Not quite anonymous in such a small town, but not exactly stared at either.
Until the box I’m mailing touches a sunburned part of my arm just enough to get my attention. My entire body freezes, remembering that one time with that one guy that was so intense I didn’t even notice the pain until I got home and saw bruises already forming. Arms, back, legs, collarbone. For a second, I want to run my own hand over my neck and close my eyes the feeling tastes so fantastic. Then my brain remembers itself, and I still haven’t taken a breath. Eyes ahead through incredible strength of will, I hope my chest hasn’t blushed. I hope I haven’t blushed. I really, really hope there isn’t another tarot reader or psychic in line in here. Did I think that out loud?
Bland smile. “Book rate, please.”
“No problem, Elphie. Having a good day?” Jim smiles at me, no doubt recalling the reasons I might not be having one.
“Oh, yeah.”
Line at the grocery store. The freezing cold grocery store, because freezing people will buy anything just to get back outside. In the middle of this heatwave, they get the bizarre urge for soup and spaghetti rather than the simple salad stuff they planned on. Of course, most of them forget the ice cream, but it must all balance out.
Mary Kay clones chat about the weather, their kids in college, their retirement plans, their trips, and their coupons. I have almost achieved a perfect state of Zen nirvana separate from them, the kid who wants the candy bar right now, and the fact that my jacket is in a storage container marked “Deep Freeze”. Then, the guy behind me says to his buddy: “You staying at home this weekend?”
His friend, with a rough carmel voice that implies sex is actually fattening, replies: “Are you out of your mind? I don’t have air conditioning. I’m going out to the cabin. At least I can sleep on the deck.”
Between the cashier and me an interactive television screen appears from nowhere, and I’m jacked in. Can’t see, hear, or feel a single thing except that one time on a deck in a heatwave. Real heat, not this Wisconsin heat, goes all the way through the skin and muscles straight to the bone. No need for backrubs, muscle relaxants--the heat makes people boneless. For a second, I remember everything a boneless body can do in rapid images and sensations before I can breath again.
“Some weather we’re having,” says the cashier.
“Indeed.”
You know exactly what I mean. Sometimes, you even like it.





























July 8th, 2002