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those fig mornings

You have a freckle on your wrist. I watch it when you turn the pages of your book, your muscles swivelling. I like this indeed.

You read Kurt Vonnegut. I like this too. You read fast and your lips never move. Once you laughed out loud and I saw your pointed teeth. I crossed my legs, and pressed.

I can tell you’re left handed. You have a long thumbnail and I imagine it flicking across your guitar strings. I know you’d sing Big Mama Thornton songs with a husky voice. I lower my head with a smile, and hum along.

I think you sleep on the left side of the bed. I think I say this because I sleep on the right, but I can’t be sure. You twitch in your sleep and your hands reach for something that’s never there, but you don’t remember this when you wake. No-one ever tells you.

Once, I sat behind you and I swear you smelled of figs. I imagine you cupping their pale green roundness in your hands, and sliding that nail into their succulent flesh. I see you scooping out seeds and passing them into your warm mouth, crunching them between sharp teeth. I tend to look away from you when I imagine this. I tend to blush.

Your hair is shorn and at the nape of your neck are several silver hairs, almost lost amongst the black. Each time I see this I feel such a desire to touch them that one day, I’m scared I might. I imagine what they’d feel like against my fingertips. I wonder what your hands crave.

You talk to alley cats when no-one else is looking and drink your coffee black. You’re not a morning person but that’s ok, neither am I. We’ll smile about that later.

Tomorrow, you’ll wear your blue Friday coat with the wide collar and I’ll have my ruby satin heels. I saw you glance at them once, look away, and then glance back with a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. I notice everything. You made me strut that day.

Some day soon, I’ll sit near you with my eyes on that freckle as the pages turn. Before I can imagine those hands and their path across me, I’ll lift my gaze, and smile. I’ll speak.

I think my voice won’t tremble, but I could be wrong.

And you’ll show those pointy teeth again as you smile back.

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A work of fiction, for once.

If only tram rides were really this enjoyable……..

Tags

tram, figs, desire, bellmusker

I love the words that fall between the cracks; where I have to roll my sleeve up, jam my arm down into the darkness, and yank the stories up by their hair.

I write with black coffee, and bare feet.

Both seem to help.

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Comments

  • opsdog
    opsdogabout 5 years ago

    Spine-tinglingly good.

  • Thanks Doug! I’m a chronic daydreamer, as you can probably tell :-)

    – bellmusker

  • nadine henley
    nadine henleyabout 5 years ago

    wow! bell – another treasure of a piece, dripping with that sharp totally unsentimental sensuality that you do so well – the pointy teeth and too long thumbnail. and i love those swiveling muscles. I’ve fallen for this guy and will fight you for him!

  • How I wish he actually existed!! I was standing on the tram recently, gazing down at a passenger, and became entranced by the nape of his neck, and the stray hairs there. My desire was strong I had to move away or I would have reached out to stroke them……this piece came out of that.

    Where are the Kurt Vonnegut reading, silver haired musicians on route 112? That’s what I’d like to know!

    – bellmusker

  • John Robb
    John Robbabout 5 years ago

    Wonderful, just so truly beautifully textured writing.

  • Hey! Which part of the world are you in, kind sir? I’ve been following your journal posts…. hope you’ve been indulging in plenty of cheese-in-a-can and two litre coffees :-)

    – bellmusker

  • nadine henley
    nadine henleyabout 5 years ago

    they’re hiding fom you, bell!

  • Ha – must be something about my Medusa scowl……

    – bellmusker

  • PJ Ryan
    PJ Ryanabout 5 years ago

    so wonderful, loved reading every little letter of this .. x

  • Thanks sweetheart, I loved writing this…hope to see you at the writers’ meeting on Sunday? x

    – bellmusker

  • Paul Louis Villani
    Paul Louis Vil...about 5 years ago

    Always a pleasure!! :D

  • And it’s always a joy to see you pop your head in and say hi :-)

    – bellmusker

  • PJ Ryan
    PJ Ryanabout 5 years ago

    yes, definately, looking forward to it very much x

  • PintaPinta
    PintaPintaabout 5 years ago

    ahhhh, so this are the furiously scrawled words of last eve, hey? i’ve been waiting… and… delicious my girl. i lived in a house once that had a fig tree in the back yard that surrended the most luscious green and aubergine figs – it completely enchanted me and i would sit out under it even in the dead of winter for the scent of figs around me. i could smell them again as i read this jelly bean. i so love where your words have been taking us lately… a work of fiction for once… indeed. what a tasty little daydream. maybe you could be the black cherry vanilla to his fig? surely that will lure the the Kurt Vonnegut reading, silver haired musicians on route 112…

  • Tommy, this is what your radar picked up on last night: sitting over a keyboard, forgetting to eat or even drink water as words came pouring out…….and trust you to head for the scent, indulging in the sensual pleasure of inhaling such delight. Somehow, I knew you once had a fig tree! x x x

    – bellmusker

  • Paul Grinzi
    Paul Grinziabout 5 years ago

    I saw you glance at them once, look away, and then glance back with a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. I notice everything.

    Wonderful stuff.
    … daydreaming with you.

  • I daydream so much I forget to get off at my tram stop…..bliss. :-)

    – bellmusker

  • Astoreth
    Astorethabout 5 years ago

    Bell, I love your imagination and your daydreams and musings. I havent been on a tram or a bus or a train for ages more like a donkey or a camel where i live…. but when i did i always had to stop myself from wanting to pat bald heads….lol….i’m a strange one. kisses xxxx

  • Donkeys and camels, hey? What stories that must bring! Thanks sweetheart x

    – bellmusker

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