Who says lump equals sum?

The first night I had ever met him we were in a loud and cramped place. Sure, I heard about him, and he had heard bits about me.
He walked up to me, looked me square in the eye, neither acknowledging nor dismissing the people I was with, the people he knew.
“You must be Shari,” he said.
He grabbed my face, both hands on my cheeks, “You are gorgeous.”
It was kind of dark in that place.

The second time I met him he kissed me within ten minutes and I didn’t disprove.

The third time I met him he put his business card in my pocket and asked me to call. I never did and the card ended up being washed the next time I did my laundry.

The fourth time, he wised up. Asked for my number and danced with me all night.

The fifth time…

I decided to give it a go.

More deadly than the male.

Little Girl One chews while playing with the blue ribbon dangling from her left pigtail.

She says to Little Girl Two with her mature pony sprouting from the top of her head,

“These gummies are divine. Deeevine.”

And they two nod daintily as they proceed in the tearing off of brightly colored bear heads with sharp baby teeth.

Ooo, la, la,

The female of the species.

Assumed character, false name.

The right music plays and everything around me becomes surreal. Looking at life through a pantyhose covered lens.

The rain just let up, the breeze stays, the chimes ring up and down the street.

The once wilted flowers are now beaming.

The people across the way have started the moving process again.

Through the screened in windows I can hear the neighbor’s toddlers scream with glee, surely from watching some brightly primary colored television show.

The next track starts.

The limbs that carry the leaves are still heavy from the brief downpours. You can still hear the drip, drip, drips of the past. Wonder what Sartre has to say about that. Was Simone masturbating against the tree trunk?

The awkward teenager that is going through her ugly phase practices her violin down the street. She prefers the songs of heartbreak and I wonder if she’s ever kissed a boy. I bet she thinks of breasts as pillows, how guys want them, but will sleep just as well without them.

It’s getting to that time when the dogs walk their people. Charles, Socks, Pepper, Lovitz, Maddie, Ellie, Shelby, Browns, and of course, Aldridge who isn’t so much a dog as he is a cat, but still each one of them walk their owners down the street. All barking at the same things, even the cat Mow-Mows his way along. Imposter.

How long will I let it go?