Pisces
One particular Pisces picked me up Saturday morning. Another joined us at for dinner. That’s a lot of Pisces.
Now, after sitting in a hotel conference room doing readings and shooting the breeze with friends, and after I got done with it all, the before show Pisces and the after show Pisces, I begged to be let off at Threadgill’s so I could stretch my legs out, if only by a little, just to shake the day off my psyche.
I was walking past Sandy’s, thinking I should get some custard [frozen ice cream mix> when one of my neighbor’s was waving at me. She just bought a new car, wanted to know if I “wanted to go for a ride,” and the implied meaning was fraught with sexual tension, “help me break it in?”
Maybe it was the static electricity in the air. Might have been her long, flowing blond locks, or the shapely curve she was exhibiting, a radiant “new car” glow, or the fascinating color of her eyes.
It was like the Northern Lights, the Aurora Borealis, I could just feel the crackling in my spine, the unsaid words, lingering the summer night’s air, “Want to take a ride in my new car?”
I looked at the car, more a mini-van, I would guess, thanked her, and said I really needed to stretch my legs out. Thanks but no thanks.
I was exhausted, tired, worn out, and otherwise just wanting to stretch myself out. Besides, that new car driver? Pisces. Anyway, it’s one of my keys to successful living, cardinal rules, something worthy of note, points on protocol: never, ever sleep with someone who lives in the same trailer park as you do.