Paean – not mine

A friend and loyal reader is getting in on the action. He sent me this (he occasionally sends me his own versions), and I thought I’d share:

I am sitting in one of the four solo seats along the port-side wall of a standard-issue MTA bus. She gets on and stands next to me. The initial impression is one of skin. A lot of skin. I try to toe a line between furtive glance and outright stare. I fail. She is in her twenties.  That is the least interesting thing she’s in. She’s in exercise short-shorts, and a ribbed, black yoga wife-beater. She has arms carved from stone, defined delts and swimmer’s biceps.  I have an unavoidably close view of how well she did trimming her armpits, as she’s holding on above me. (Well, as it turns out).  She has her red hair in a bun, no makeup.  She is laughing and talking to her (more dressed, similarly aged) friend.  I want to shout, “I exercise too! I’m on my way to the gym!”. I don’t.

One comment

  1. Very imaginative, such imagination of your reader can be put to good use in Hollywood to do some script-writing for movies. Nowadays, the crisis in movies is to run out of quality unique content like what most of us bloggers experience at times.

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