8:48) chris abraham 09-JAN-98 13:46
again i am in my shirtsleeves. thank god for IT. i believe its the geeks who made casual friday the success that it is today. its grand for ladies looking for their mate because on casual friday its less of a no-brainer than the suit is. the suit can be a copycat thing. You can peg the poor taste on the fridays, and if he is too neat, he is porbably married or gay anyway. anyway, off to the ground level, the surface. ate a tuna sandwich. a pickle. some chips. an herbal tea drink. still had 40 minutes left. sunny day but its raining. spritzing. clear sky. where's the rain coming from? no answers but refreshment and a prize.
a double rainbow loomed above the city, causing people to stare dumbfounded into the sky. the sky behind the bow was almost purple. i could have sworn i could register ir, uv.
people in suits stood stansfixed. people in skirts stood transfixed. the site seduced me away from the route. i walked up 15th street, towards mcpherson square. the bow topped my present movements. drawing me from NY towards K.
sunny's surplus; espresso; soft spray of rain from a cloudless sky. woman in earth tones. her long skirt sliced up to the hip. the most aluring tease of movement. the shiny leather heel, the sheer stocking, and the slit, the thigh less visible than in a pair of shorts or a swimsuit of the most conservative cut. less is more. less is more, and its all in the delivery.
that thigh was absolutely desirable. more than an exposed breast, more than bending from the hip or the low cut shirt, more than the minidress or the daring lbd, more than sheer or transparent. the quick peek of the knee, from the heavy wool skirt wrapped like sarong, falling to the ankle. rushing the light, the soft white dough of the inner thighflash thighflash until she passes from view and i sit and compose, sit and compose.
the fire is usually dead until spring. the weather of winter ala el nino is stoking flames better left deep within the protective bog of the everyheating compost heap.