Post by strangeclouds on Mar 9, 2005 18:06:40 GMT -5
I sat in church once- listening to the boring sermon- mocking them- with my- matching black lace-up boots- and- "I am a goddess" tank top...Hands- so gracefully- adjusting my...'dangerously high' slitted, floor length black skirt...I'd stare at the floor- eyeing the multi-colored nylon that made-up the pale-blue carpet. Always clean- not even an abandoned clump of dirt from a farmer's workboot.
I never understood how the yellow nylon fit into the pink and blue mix without making it green...another one of God's unanswered questions, I guess...
I sighed, as my eyes adjusted closer, to the ends of my hair. 'Fucking split-ends,' I thought. Until, a tiny little girl appeared from behind the pew, and slid next to me. Her hair was blonde- pulled up from tiny stubborn curls that fell around her face- never surrendering to that big, white bow.
I could see her tiny white shoes- buckled, and shiny- each scrape carefully rubbed off before breakfast, imprisoning matching rumpled opaque pantyhose.
She played with her hands- carelessly atop layers of uncomfortable petticoats and spiteful white-patterned satin. Her dress overlapped me. I pulled away, letting the incredibly white material, compared to MY skirt- drift and fall to the seat. I wanted her to leave. I felt like I had already contaminated her. A blur from the sides of my cheeks, I saw her abruptly look up to stare into my eyes, hidden by my curtain of hair. Her eyes were blue, and- uncorrupted. And all I could think was- I wanted to BE there.
I couldn't help it- with black-chipped- outstretched fingernails, I reached out to touch her-
But then,
She ran away.
I never understood how the yellow nylon fit into the pink and blue mix without making it green...another one of God's unanswered questions, I guess...
I sighed, as my eyes adjusted closer, to the ends of my hair. 'Fucking split-ends,' I thought. Until, a tiny little girl appeared from behind the pew, and slid next to me. Her hair was blonde- pulled up from tiny stubborn curls that fell around her face- never surrendering to that big, white bow.
I could see her tiny white shoes- buckled, and shiny- each scrape carefully rubbed off before breakfast, imprisoning matching rumpled opaque pantyhose.
She played with her hands- carelessly atop layers of uncomfortable petticoats and spiteful white-patterned satin. Her dress overlapped me. I pulled away, letting the incredibly white material, compared to MY skirt- drift and fall to the seat. I wanted her to leave. I felt like I had already contaminated her. A blur from the sides of my cheeks, I saw her abruptly look up to stare into my eyes, hidden by my curtain of hair. Her eyes were blue, and- uncorrupted. And all I could think was- I wanted to BE there.
I couldn't help it- with black-chipped- outstretched fingernails, I reached out to touch her-
But then,
She ran away.