Thursday, March 01, 2012

He and She

Inspired by “What It Is” by Joan Connor

They met at a shelter. They both liked to walk. Among the barbwire and scant shrubs, his head was bent low. Hers cocked high. He thought she was foxy. She liked the indifference of his distance. He liked her good nose. She admired his chest like a horse. Did it matter that she was of Spitz ancestry? His from working class Staffordshire? They were unaware. She needed a serious cure to her separation anxieties. He was adopted into her family.

After the paperwork, he arrived at his suburban home. He liked his large, ample bed - the blooming jasmines from the window. She was confused with her new standing. He gained greater affections from his new parents. She sulked. He felt he belonged. She started to resent his presence. It would take time - the pugilist and the paloma. Parallel lines waiting to intersect.

They shared a castrated past - both runaways. She was found in the streets of Do You-Know-the-Way-to-San Jose - a studded faux diamond collar around her neck. He slept in the rainy streets of Jack London’s Oakland - ribs protruded by the time the cops collected him. Prodded, tested, socialized – the lonesome journey to domestication. He attempted no barks - taught himself silence to survive.

On any other day, in the backyard, her legs were splayed open in full eagle on the lemon lawn chair, while he, tucked away in the corner, shy as a flea. She crouched in a yoga downward dog position, coquette-like - an invitation to play. His head was bent low. She rolled unto her back. He sat upright as a sphinx, but looked away to contemplate a tennis ball. She flicked her head as if to say, hey come over.

He sauntered by - then pretended to trip.
She jumped on top and pinned him down.
He let her.
They wrestled on the splendor of brick.
She leaned in and licked his chops.
He let her.

From then on, they became inseparable. His Heathcliff to her Cathy.

Sometimes they slept in the same bed. Sometimes she would steal his. Again, legs spread open, saluting the heavens, while he coiled massive muscles fetus style inside her tiny nest. He preferred it this way.

Over the years, change became more manageable.

She conquered her phobia for staircases.
He saw the ocean.
She became less anxious.
He found his voice.

By Mai Brehaut

 the first meeting

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