Why not?

A million reasons, but I'm not sure why we ask why, or why not.

Tetanus Toxiod

He: Why the tetanus shot?

She: Long story.

He: What's the short of it?

She: I was running late -

He: again -

She: when I heard the train coming. And anyone who works on the waterfront knows that once that train begins,

He: it's never gonna end.

She: Uh huh! Especially when you're running late. So naturally, I book-it across the tracks...

He: More concerned about your 8 o'clock than your own life.

She: ...and my heel catches on a pothole. My new 4" stills nonetheless.

He: Tragic!

She: Yes. I then go flying.

He: Away from previously referenced train?

She:  Yes - thank heavens.

He: Amen!

She: But in the process of falling I lose a shoe (sad day too - those shoes were ca-ute!). Of course, with the help of my good friend A. Drenaline, I'm on my feet in no time, and hobbling away from the almost-upon-me train as fast as my one-bare/one-heel-clad feet can take me.

He: Yikes.

She: Yeah - but at least I cleared the train.

He: And this results in a tetanus shot how?

She: While running my foot lands

He: The foot sans shoe?

She: Yes, the foot sans shoes lands on a rusty nail, and that sucker goes all the way through.

He: Ouchy.

She: Yeah, and I can't quite recall my last T-shot, so Doc "highly recommends" a just-in-case poke.

He: Really?

She: No. I think my nurse just wanted to stick a needle in my arm. I'm not always pleasant you know.

He: That goes without saying. Did it hurt?

She: It does now.

He: Good. At least the shoes are OK.
She: Nope. I really did catch them on a pot hole - while dodging trains - scuffed the entire left side, and broke a heel.
He: Boo!
She: Agreed.
He: Should we get lunch?

Because I am going to put Him before everything else.

Because I'm worried about her...she doesn't even know she's in trouble.

Because I'm defined by my resume.

in love with you:

- independent film makers that actually live up to your name and creed (though i understand why most don't  - after all being a 'starving artist' is cool in name only)
- fringe sandals (especially if you're teal)
- a. warhol's death and disaster series (again)
- bluntness (hair and manners)

Monday, August 31, 2009: I went to the park.

And while sitting at the park today, eating a dry graham cracker and wondering where the nearest glass of milk might be, I happened to look directly up and see a swarm of gnats congregating no more than two feet above my head. I immediately stopped breathing - and thought about my many evening walks, dusk, and

- little corpses, drowned in snot, black on white: the tissue after blowing my nose.

or

- barely there lumps that I thought I felt in my throat when swallowing....sometimes coughing up a lump or two (and feeling cleansed and purged), or sometimes not (and wondering was there actually a lump? A question that I can neither answer nor forget - unless I cough it up).

Thank goodness a rather strong gust of wind, taking pity on my O2-less lungs, suddenly and efficiently blew the swarm away. What luck! But, within seconds of the wind passing and calming, the gnats managed to reassemble...in the exact same location. Curious. Holding my breath once again I ponder this...while staring at them in wonder: Why that spot? Why that exact 'two feet above my head; 7 feet above the ground; center of the bench' spot? Not all of life's mysteries will be revealed in this life.

Two more gusts of wind come (separately) - more scattering of the masses - who always reassemble - while confirming the unknown but certain importance of that exact spot.

I finally decide I need to breathe, so I move to the merry-go-round. It is gnatless, but my nose still itches.