Magical Foam Brush
Before we piled into the car and went down to the city you had something to say to me, you said. The trip was not planned; it was not premeditated in any way--it was a spontaneous decision we just made, you and I. In the city there will be places to eat and dance, just you and I, so what now is this thing?
The road there, it’s really a highway with lanes enough for us to travel quickly. I suppose there is time. The car has a full tank of gas and I took it to the coin op wash yesterday. You remember that time we first went, and neither of us had used one before. The labels on the control knob were faded, and we had to test each setting until we found the magical foam brush. That’s what I used first yesterday, doesn’t it make the most sense? The foam is pink and smells sweet, not quite like soap. The car was covered in pink foamy swirls before I switched the knob, switched it down to rinse. You have to hurry with the rinse process lest the alarm sound. When that happens it means you’ll need to put in another dollar. That first day we went, do you remember scrounging for quarters? We almost ran out of time.
I’ve checked the tires. It took me just one moment with the air gauge we bought on that first trip to the car wash. You unscrew the fill cap and place the head of the gauge on the valve stem. When that happens its cheap plastic tongue sticks out and tells you how much pressure’s in the tire. They all read 40 psi. Give me one second to wash the grime from my hands and then you can tell me.
The kitchen is filled with the smell of your perfume; it’s not the kind I bought you, don’t you like that? What it smells like is sweet, like the magical pink foam, but something else--is it honey? I don’t know what to think. It’s not the kind I bought you.
The dress you’re wearing I’ve never seen, and I dare say it isn’t modest like the ones I’ve bought you, don’t you like those? All the men will stare at you, and then they’ll stare at me, then back at you. Why not that nice Cambridge blue one?
What’s this you say? We’ll be meeting some new friends of yours? But I thought it would be just us? Dining alone; dancing alone; no others. Why must there be others?
The road there, it’s really a highway with lanes enough for us to travel quickly. I suppose there is time. The car has a full tank of gas and I took it to the coin op wash yesterday. You remember that time we first went, and neither of us had used one before. The labels on the control knob were faded, and we had to test each setting until we found the magical foam brush. That’s what I used first yesterday, doesn’t it make the most sense? The foam is pink and smells sweet, not quite like soap. The car was covered in pink foamy swirls before I switched the knob, switched it down to rinse. You have to hurry with the rinse process lest the alarm sound. When that happens it means you’ll need to put in another dollar. That first day we went, do you remember scrounging for quarters? We almost ran out of time.
I’ve checked the tires. It took me just one moment with the air gauge we bought on that first trip to the car wash. You unscrew the fill cap and place the head of the gauge on the valve stem. When that happens its cheap plastic tongue sticks out and tells you how much pressure’s in the tire. They all read 40 psi. Give me one second to wash the grime from my hands and then you can tell me.
The kitchen is filled with the smell of your perfume; it’s not the kind I bought you, don’t you like that? What it smells like is sweet, like the magical pink foam, but something else--is it honey? I don’t know what to think. It’s not the kind I bought you.
The dress you’re wearing I’ve never seen, and I dare say it isn’t modest like the ones I’ve bought you, don’t you like those? All the men will stare at you, and then they’ll stare at me, then back at you. Why not that nice Cambridge blue one?
What’s this you say? We’ll be meeting some new friends of yours? But I thought it would be just us? Dining alone; dancing alone; no others. Why must there be others?
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