Of First Dates and Frankensteinish Crabapple-Rose Bouquets

My sexy Piano Man and I went on another first date… and my hair could barely control its excitement… Either that, or the wind was feeling artful. Seriously, three minutes into the ferry ride from Manhattan to Staten Island, my hair looked like it had just exploded.

I pretended to be very vexed, and the wind behaved itself for about five seconds…

…but I made the mistake of grinning too soon…

…and my hair ka-BOOM-ed again.

Our yearly date went as usual—we shared a ricotta pizza (mushrooms, olives, green peppers) at the place we had our 1st first date, and followed the cheesy yumminess with homemade ice cream. After that, we headed towards Silver Lake, the spot where my Piano Man and I proposed to each other and have partaken on many first gropes.

We walked by Mundy Avenue. This bit might not be as cool, if you’ve never read Fables.

My lover walked on a tree that fell over a creek a few stormy summers ago…

…sat on a huge rock…

…and I noticed a nail quartet that had been hammered into a pine. Poor tree.

About a mile from the tree, we met a huge turtle. Well, we met 2 huge turtles. But since turtle romance looks rather disturbing, I figured that it would not be a good idea to post pictures of the loving couple *cough*. Say hi to the female…  pre-disturbance.

Once we got over the shock of seeing huge turtles making wee turtles, we continued our walk towards Silver Lake…. where I climbed a crabapple tree. The ecstasy of getting up on that tree without feeling the excruciating pain I felt last year (when I wasn’t trying to climb anything) was glorious. The memory of it is making me grin like a lunatic.

At some point during our journey, my Piano Man rescued some roses that had been recently crippled. I grabbed a half-snapped branch from the crabapple tree and brought the beautifully freakish bouquet home.

When we stepped out of the train, a man who seemed to be drunk enough to set his own breath on fire, looked from my face to my Frankensteinish crabapple-rose creation (which my Piano Man was carrying), and said to me, “You are very lucky, both of you.”

I nodded my thanks, but said nothing (since my mouth was dying to ask him if he meant that my Piano Man and I were both lucky, or if he was seeing two of me… and I suspect the latter might not have been very polite). But I did smile at him, thinking, Yes, we are.

Then my Piano Man and I got home, and made each other luckier.

Around My Finger-Bone

Last Saturday, my Piano Man and I went on another first date. Every year, we recreate our first face to face encounter. Our actual first date was in June, but I was too sick last June and we had to put it on hold for a bit. We are so glad we did… The weather was perfect, the pizza was NY-yummy, the ice cream was delicious, and my flesh and bones felt well enough to delight in our long walk through Silver Lake.

“The Beats under My Ribs”

The morning stretches awake to the song of gut and bone echoing of recent pain. My brain wonders if the rest of my flesh is ready for buses and trains riding my spine. I see him smile for me, feel his lips feed me a kiss, and the beats under my ribs say I can do anything.

in sunlight, two hearts
sail the summer-kissed waters
of New York, in love

magaly-and-william-sep-2016

After the ferry took us from Manhattan to Staten Island, we ate and walked to the city park… where we shared our first grope (did I type that aloud?) and where my Piano Man proposed a few years after said grope (I guess I did type it aloud). We visited a bunny that has been living in a tree-house (tree-basket?) for at least five years. Last year, she found a foxy mate. They make such a lovely couple, don’t they?

fox-and-bunny

“Around My Finger-Bone”

His eyes eat a book… His fingers knead relief into the small of my back. The chant of cars on rails lulls me home… I watch silver and dark around my finger-bone ringing a promise made of all my love… From the sky, debris falls like a star. And I wish for nothing.

a black stone with spark
handfasted my witchy heart
to he, who is mine

black-diamond

.
a wee note…

– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads (Tuesday Platform)