Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Laissez les Bons Temps...

Yesterday I fell in love with a man on the bus. I imagine his name was Robert.
I sat next to Robert because he had his legs crossed and I like a man who crosses his legs like a girl. Of course he was not a girl but a man, older, maybe sixties? I don’t know. I never really looked at his face simply because you don’t look people in the face on the bus; you look at their shoes (sensible), their newspaper (Wall Street Journal), their fingernails (clean).

Barely visible beneath the cuff of his shirt I spotted a bracelet on his wrist, the kind woven with embroidery thread? This is what got me, that bracelet. Purple, gold, green, because I could imagine this man maybe named Robert (or James) cutting a rug at Mardi Gras. Possibly in New Orleans but probably in his living room, I felt certain that when he kicks off his oxfords he smiles as if he’s got nothing left to hide.

Mynamar Protests Turn Deadly. I watched him read, turn the page, snap his newspaper crisp and creaseless. Private Sector Sheds Jobs. I thought I had gotten so good at this, cutting my eyes to the side like a man sneaking a glance at the gap of a woman’s button-down. Just my eyes, no turn of the head, EU Probes Aid for Irish Bank. His wrist was thin like mine, but then he shifted, sighed, rattled his newspaper annoyed, and I knew that he did not love me back.

Still, I slept with him. What can I say? I’m a slut on the bus. Something about the hum, the sway, I did not mean to but the next thing I knew we had driven over the metal plate on the northbound span of the Golden Gate Bridge and I woke up, slack mouth open and dry.

Oh, Robert. Just promise me you’ll keep dancing.

17 comments:

jennifer said...

Ha! I have that problem with the rope-headed boys checking my groceries at the whole foods . . .shh.

Anonymous said...

bus slut? ha ha ha! oh no you didnt! I love this post and yes, I can totally relate to this experience.

oh Brother! said...

Flutter my brain. Beat, my synaptic heart.

I love your post.

Love,

bro. (always lower... in case)

Visual Vamp said...

From one bus slut to another, I think I saw Robert on the St. Charles Avenue streetcar during Mardi Gras.
He asted for you...
(as in "went down to the Audubon Zoo and they all asted for you" - a local ditty)
xo xo

benson said...

I try to be silent and mysterious in situations like that and then there's the moment when "he" asks you something and EVERYTHING seems to come out of my mouth. He then thinks "oh, she's the happy,fun, girl" not the ingrid bergman I was hoping for.

A Perfect Gray said...

beautiful as always. thank you.

arollerskatingjam said...

I love a good slut! here's hoping you didn't drool.

Still Life With Coffee said...

Love this! I've totally done that.

Megan said...

my word verif is "nosun". how's that for weird?

Kacey said...

Thats cools that you mentioned New Orleans because that is where I was born and raised,but I now live in a suburb about 30 miles away.But New Orleans will always be my town,its something about that city that you just cant ever escape from,it gets under your skin and you will always be drawn to it somehow.Its in you and you in it,always.But I dont have one of those bracelets,maybe I should get one.

thevioletpear said...

love this moment

Alexsandria said...

I fell asleep on the bus the other day and woke up to find myself hunched over the migrant worker next to me's lap, almost about to fall into it. He was just politely leaning in the opposite direction hoping, I'm sure, that I'd wake up before a large bump landed my face in his crotch.

Michelle M in KY said...

OH SUSANNAH,
This is the funniest thing ever. Love it, & love you (not in the weird kind of way). I knew we had lots in common. Who knew people randomly sleep with people on the bus, at the store, at the red light??? Who knew? Obviously, you did!

Woman in a Window said...

Sweetly hot in all the right ways. I'm over from Krista's. I'm glad I came by.

xo
erin

Anonymous said...

Love this post, love all your posts. You are a talented writer who speaks to my soul. You write ("say") the (sometimes crazy) things that I think, but in my own world far away from yours. Your writing seems just for you, but it's special because it speaks to a hidden voice inside of me---I know it's there, no one else does.

Robin said...

I love this post, reminded me of the days (20 years ago) when I commuted on MetroNorth to NYC and "slept" with a woman from NYU for a year. We never knew each other's name. It's simpler that way ;-)

ZDub said...

I think I love Robert too.