Friday, November 14, 2008
i liked her when she was sweet and unexplainable
The weight of winter:
Ive been invited for pancakes at my mothers on Sunday. fluffy, blueberry. All the women in my life make delicious pancakes. They bake with aprons tied and hair pulled back. I would say i prefer bacon and eggs but it lacks the charm and whimsy of gooey buttermilk batter and pretty green mixing bowls. It's just a greased up fry pan and spatula nothing poetic. something to have the morning after a night of dirty sex. pancakes are warm blankets, they are snuggling up in bed together like a Kurt Halsey drawing.
I grew up, my mother stayed at home. cooking, cleaning, caring. Always there. I thought that was everyone until about 5Th grade. Of my friends parents that were actually still together, both of them usually worked. I might be slightly needy of attention because of it.
the girlfriends Ive had. I'd never see fathers around. Step-dads at most.
This is Dan she'd say. I'd shake the guys beefy hand and automatically assume he was a creepy sex pervert after my girl-friend. I'd check her room for holes in the walls and cameras hidden in the ceiling.
I couldn't find anything here. but I'll be right back, I'll check the bathroom for you.
I'm the only daddy you'll ever need to know. I'd say.
I'd get a laugh, but some night we'll be having sex and can you guess what she'd call me?
It must be the glasses and stories and the fact i won't let her have any fun. She plays the part of spoiled brat so well, I know she isn't faking. neither am i.
but i like her when she wears her apron baking. she told me it once belonged to her grandmother and it doesn't turn me off any less. she's sweet with the little blue spoon in her hand wearing next to nothing. The apron, the socks, the undies. I'm not saying it's where she should be, but i won't say i don't think it's the hottest thing next to Georgia asphalt and maybe her in my Cowboys #9 Jersey.
It's always these little things. things like blue berry pancakes , aprons - the smell of girl. It kills me to remember that she has a weakness for Patsy Cline and old country music. and her hair clips. I'd pick one up off her night-stand sniff it, press it to my heart. they smell like metal.
Photo credits:Cheap Thursday's'
Art credits: the black apple (etsy)