Silent Boyfriend

 

She carries a bottle as if it was a baby. She's walking barefoot although it's November and though it's unseasonably warm it's still cold. That there: “everything is relative” thing. Just inside the park gate she opens the bottle a pours out a shapeless puddle with the viscosity like a jelly-fish. It sighs and takes what sounds like deep breath. A few moments later it begins to wiggle and waggle and grow. There's a head, a torso, arms and legs come out and at finally there's a beautiful young man standing there dressed and all. He looks like an average of every beautiful young man as they're portrayed in movies, commercials and in magazines. Sort of smooth and anonymous. He opens his mouth but not a word is heard.

“That's my boyfriend,” says the girl. “I always take him to the park when the weather allows.” She looks at him with eyes that glitter from adoration.

“What's that with his voice?”, I ask.

“I like my boyfriends silent.” She whistles and the young man collapses back into his puddle-form and she scoops him into the bottle.

yellow moon
late night boys play ball
on red astro-turf

…

file date November 3, 2014