I’m at the city park – and this guy…
he’s sitting on the steps – not far from the dock (by the park lake) –
with his two dogs – they are yappers – and they are cute as fuck –
and he ain’t too bad either
He’s in a tank top (I’ve never been confident enough to pull that off)
And his dogs look at me as I decline the concrete stairs –
“Hi”, I say – because my therapist tells me I should be more social
“Hi”, he says (the guy, not the dogs – they just pant)
– and suddenly I discover I have limited social skills
I, then, walk down the dirt path by the park lake –
I came here to feed the ducks –
I brought cracked corn –
and, underneath my arm, I carry paperback Baudelaire
A few minutes later – the guy and his dogs are walking towards me –
Down the dirt path by the park lake -
and the ducks, as I feed them –
there are fucking dozens of ducks up on the dock because I have cracked corn –
he (the handsome guy) and his dogs gets closer, and I take the earbud out of my ear –
he might have something interesting to say (and I want to talk to him) –
though I am too shy to know what to say
“Hi”, I say –
and he smiles and says, “Hi”.
his smile is like 1,000 suns – or whatever the fuck poets might say –
he has a nice smile and I think I might give him my phone number –
and I totally don’t know what is going on –
I’m bold on paper – not so much in real-time
“You’re handsome”, I spit out, reluctantly –
and then I immediately regret it
“Okay, that was bold”, he snickers
“I’m Jimmy”
“I’m Rex…
you brought a book to the park.?”, he speaks –
“Yeah”, I speak –
“it’s mid-nineteenth century French poetry”
“No shit (?)” he says or asks –
and his profanity impresses me
“Do you and your dogs want to join me – to feed the ducks?”, I ask –
as I’m kind of dying inside
The dogs sit next to me, panting and happy
– he (the handsome guy) is 2 feet away – and he smiles –
and I think “holy fuck – holy fucking shit – fucking fuck” – and somehow,
I think he can read my mind as I internally and outwardly blush –
he smiles again (at me) mischievously
I hand him a handful of cracked corn and…
it’s messy – kind of like me right now –
and he throws it haphazardly towards the ducks on the dock –
he isn’t paying much attention – to the ducks –
he’s sitting here with me – and I throw more food at the ducks –
and am also barely paying attention to them
I want to ask him to walk with me –
perhaps to the main dock where we might sit and talk –
- to get to know each other – for me to pet his dogs -
I’m out of cracked corn and the ducks are swimming away
– my social skills sit still and silent – as they betray me
I look at the nearby skyscrapers because I don’t know the words to say
He smiles at me – wearing his very handsome tank top –
holding the leashes of two very cute dogs –
one, whose head is resting on my leg
I stand up – “it was really nice to meet you”, I say (somewhat panicked)
“You too”, he says, “You Too”.
I walk several feet in front of him – and look back (at him) –
he (and his dogs) - walking towards something that is not in the direction I am traveling
And I immediately regret being socially awkward –
-and really wish I knew what the fuck is wrong with me
Photo: Jimmy Broccoli holding "The Flowers of Evil".
