Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Watching a Train Wreck

I try not to look but it draws me in like a train wreck draws EMTs and polyester wearing lawyers looking for a quick buck. My eyes pass over them. Keep going, I say, keep going, it's not your place, it's none of your business, just keep going and SNAP! They're back, wondering what the hell that woman is doing for that $100 bill tucked in her shirt pocket, sitting there with her hands on his hips and his pants around his ankles.

Maybe she's taking his measurements for a new pair of trousers, a custom made suit, neon green with pink checked accents to offset the lines of his mohawk just so.

Maybe she's rotating his arms, legs, torso so he'll achieve the perfect stance in his Pilates series, balance and breathing aligned to optimize the transfer of oxygen to the blood cells and increase muscle strength and flexibility.

Or maybe she just finished blowing him and she's going to wipe her mouth on the hem of his shirt.

I dunno, but I can't stop looking and I'm afraid my eyes are going to freeze there and shatter.

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