Tuesday, July 24, 2007

the perfect man

Try and remove me from this place. Try and separate the two. I dare you.

Words cannot even describe this moment.

I’m coasting down the back road and the air is heavy from the heat of the day. My hair is still damp and setting into loose curls from my spontaneous post-beer, clothes-still-on, off-the pier-and-into-the-lake-cannonball that occurred less than an hour earlier. I’m comfortable in board shorts that barely graze the tops of my thighs, and a striped t-shirt bought in Finland that used to match my fuchsia hair. Dragonflies glide parallel to my path, taking care to avoid the spokes of my wheels. Frogs are jumping across the hot pavement, desperately trying to make their way to the next pond for some nice, cool mud bathing. Sufjan Stevens is in my ears (The Tallest Man, the Broadest Man, for any of you who want to make a specific musical reference) and there’s only one thought in my mind.

How could this get any better?

A grin on my face, I reach the top of the hill, and somehow, even through Sufjan’s chiming bells and horns, I hear my answer before I see him. We glide together down the hill, his muscular legs pushing hard against the earth, mine pushing hard against my pedals. His white tail is visible slightly ahead of me, and then we both stop. I brake and wheel closer using my toes to push me. Only feet apart, I stare at him and he stares back. His antlers are mossy and immaculately symmetrical, and for a moment curiousity replaces fear. And then we both disappear. He into the bush, and me into myself.

City mouse, indeed.

1 comment:

  1. Awesome! I think we have the woods deep down in our DNA. You can't make this kind of stuff up about the glass towers in the cities.

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