Bandit

   We are driving through the park, Elphina and I, when we happen upon several young girls dancing with hoops to an arabesque. "Oh, I absolutely love rhythmic gymnastics!" Elphina effuses, and begs to stop a while. From a bench nearby we watch as the girls leap effortlessly through the cool morning mist, hands over hearts, hoops held guardedly forward, like Neruda's girls, "dreaming of bandits." 

   Thief that I am, aroused, I cross my legs to hide the fact, but Elphina has noticed and is on me in a second. "You bastard!" she whispers violently into my good ear. "You should be ashamed!" she reprimands. Pulling me from the bench by my collar, she leads the way to the car. "Son-of-a-bitch!" she curses ahead of me. "You have stolen my day!"

   "Ah, I love rhythmic gymnastics," I mutter to myself. "Absolutely," I say.

glwarren, 2014