I won three spelling bees back in my prime, but now I can’t even spell enunciate. “It’s been lovely,” says Sandy, standing, jingling her keys. “People should live out loud, with jubilation. “That’s why they’re so mean,” says Sandy. People should be faithful, don’t you think? Swans mate for life, Sandy.” “That wasn’t cool, kicking him out of the band for your precious Ringo. “I doubt Richard even thinks of me these days.” I sit beside her at our table, our bare thighs touching, but she laughs and tells me to take the other side like a normal human. It used to be our spot until my (still) wife decided she wanted to fit herself into a tangled world of orgies and skydivers. Sandy agrees to meet me for milkshakes at the Dairy Queen. Huddled by tomatoes, I wait for Sandy’s silhouette the way a child waits for a banana pancake. Ringo Starr really enjoyed feet, Sandy once told me, in what passed back then as pillow talk. I like it there, the smells, wind chimes tinkling, wind nicking pool water, and the feel of manure on my bare feet, between my toes.
#Ringo starr sitting down Patch#
But, oh, Sandy’s body, let me tell you, Sandy’s body is like a statue of a woman’s body if that particular woman had a smoking orange body.Īt night, most nights, I walk over to King’s Manor, and stand in the tomato patch behind the swimming pool.
She’s almost sixty and we’re both retired.
#Ringo starr sitting down skin#
Her skin is like a moisturized tangerine. Sandy, my wife who no longer lives with me, spends most of her life tanning, by pools, by the Atlantic, but mostly in tanning beds. I picture her covered in hands and various lotions and maybe even snakes. They have those pills now–everyone gets down and oily in the King’s Manor. My wife–still my wife–has her own place now, an apartment called King’s Manor popular with older singles. The bed itself was nothing fancy, a standard Queen-sized model, slightly smaller than the bed I currently sleep in alone. Sometimes my wife talks about Ringo Starr and the bed they used to share.
0 kommentar(er)
