Strolling around the local park, trees bare and winter sun bright in a blue sky, pondering the nature of love. Love for Jenny being the thing flooding my heart. After just a few minutes together. Thinking, some would call it infatuation, not love. A casuistic distinction. Whatever, the barb sharp beneath my overcoat.
Working through the memories. Seeing her with other men, sucking, fucking. So what, she’d seen me doing similar with the other women. Probably, since the party, she’s done it quite a few times, that’s what she does for a living. Again, so what, everyone knows you can just go through the motions, in itself it’s void of meaning, where it counts is when there’s the sudden jolt connection, a merging of souls in flesh.
In the park, children playing football, plumes of mist streaming from their faces, grandmothers looking on. The sun low and white in the sky. But even such beauty of only secondary interest. Jenny, Jenny, you’ve infiltrated my defenses, your germ is in my brain, I can’t think of anything but you.
Exciting in itself, the excitement multiplied by a sense of reciprocity, her soul reaching out to me too. Could all be a fantasy, but if so, so what? Impossible to verify or disprove, flesh’s message being definitive, indifferent to cerebral superimposition or verbal elaboration. My lover’s discipline, accept it for what it is, don’t seek spurious reassurance, don’t be weak.
Wisest course perhaps, leave it at that, cherish the unique moment, celebrate the brief snatched sexual togetherness, life’s most potent affirmation.
But maybe I’ll just make contact, see how it goes.
