Bounce

Faced with the idea of contemplating
the meniscus in my water glass, or
going for a walk in the nice cool afternoon,
I forced myself to get off my fat arse
and out in the quasi-sunshine.

So I did my normal route
down the hill, up the hill, down the hill
and past Adam, my favourite, towering tree
you remember him?
I photo-ed him a few months ago
under 'Hug me biatch!'
(then foolishly deleted them last week)

Adam was no longer.

I stopped in my tracks, staring at the stump that
remains of him,
then I walked up to him slowly,
grieving
I had wanted to show him to the Bee!

So then I walked away, heart so heavy
and suddenly over the crest of the hill
came not one, or two
but EIGHT, (8!)
Bichon Frise

They were unbelievably cute, scampering about me
and licking my hands as I got onto my knees int the dirt
to pet them
a lone woman was walking them
and chatted with me when she saw the delight on my face
yes, I believe Paris Hilton or one
of the other ones like her has one (or ten)

So this woman, she tells me they all live
with her, that they are a delight, odourless, no shedding
no loud barking, so sweet
most off all, they made me momentarily forget
my sadness over Adam.

Adam must have been hundreds and hudreds
of years old =(

The I set towards home, huffing and puffing
up the great steep hill
and I thought of how a stranger seeing me
might describe me:
cheeks flushed, hair wind-whipped
breasts bouncing against my rib-cage..

Then I thought
"Wait a minute, Aja, 'bouncing against the rib-cage'
doesn't apply to you, yours merely bounce,
and definately not against your rib-cage"

And there is myself, ever so subtly reminding
me about the size of my apples; Myself, taking the piss
out of me.

I like them ok?They're manageable.
So there.