27 June, 2007

Agouti Women

I was walking up the BART escalator in the fast lane behind a tall, svelte, crinkly-haired woman in an ivory denim jacket. She paused and shifted to the right.
She had on tight hip-hugger jeans with embroidered back pockets. She had hips the size of quarters. I take that back. Her jeans were not tight, they were form-fitting. Long, long legs. Something about the way she was made us notice each other. The air vibrated and a message was transmitted. I thought I was mistaken so it did not change my trajectory. As I was passing her, she said, "I love your opals. They're so beautiful."
My hand had been resting on my knee which was suspended over the step above. My knee was swathed in a pair of un-form-fitting, stone chinos from Eddie Bauer and below them, my feet happily rattled around in a pair of scuffed Dansko clogs in that color they call 'cordovan.' Above my chinos was a dun-colored wrinkled cotton V-neck sweater. My socks which had lost their elastic but stayed above my heels anyway, matched the cotton camisole which straps were showing from underneath the dun-colored sweater which matched my shoes, all of which were in the dark ruby-wine, oxblood-red color family.
But she didn't know any of that.
On the last three fingers of my hand there were Navajo rings, and in those rings were opals. Also in those rings wre turquoise and onyx and lapis and garnet. All this wrapped around my fingers, running along my hand, which was laid on the surface of my thigh.
As we got off the escalator, our bodies kind of leaned into each other, as if they weren't done talking.
'How astounding,' I thought, sliding my BART ticket through the turnstile, 'that such a woman would find me kindred.'


itzktb said...

I love your writing.

Ponygecko said...

itzktb--You have no idea how scary-feeding it was to be told that,this particular evening--wish that's how I felt but jeez, tyvm. I am much inspired and awed by what I have been reading in this blogosphere, that's for sure--and I follow you as well.