A walk

We sat at the bench facing the green grass before us, a dog chasing after a pink-and-green frisbee.  The wind was chilly against my skin, but I didn't mind.  I had spent many of the last few days so hot with fever, a cold whip of wind felt alright.  I could feel my hair flow in the wind, but it was up in a ponytail so it didn't go wild like it usually likes to do.  I had to move.  I picked at the seat, I shuffled my feet around, knees up, knees down, legs crossed, straight, my ass couldn't sit still. 

The dog jumped and grabbed the frisbee from the air, teeth sinking into the hot pink mesh.  It landed and bolted back to its owner, black splotches flying, skinny legs almost a blur.  I could feel him next to me, also watching the dog.  I knew if I looked over, I would see his hair waving in the air like grass in the meadow.  His eyes would be squinted against the bright afternoon light. 

I look anyway.

When we walk back, I think about the feeling of my feet on the ground, my legs reveling in movement after days of being in bed.  My hands were deep in my pockets, my fingers in a tight fist.  I was a bit stiff; the wind had cooled a warm day, and although the sun felt good there was just enough chill to make my muscles seize.  The air occasionally contained the sharp smell of gasoline, but when we walked into less-populated areas the air instantly become light and sweet, like a cool drink of water. 

I think back to the night before.  I had seen Dengue Fever once before, two years ago at Bimbo's.  They had been pretty good then.  Last night their sound echoed through the Fillmore, the girl's voice shaking the air, the guitar, bass, drums, saxophone, keyboard, all melding and meshing together.  I love their songs recorded, but when they're live it expands.  I lost my body into the music, the scent of sweet smoke lingering in the air, the lights bright and ever-changing. 

I speak.  He responds.  I nod.  I listen.  I remind myself to listen (stop just thinking about what you'll say next!).  I say something back.  Maybe a lot of somethings.  He talks. 

In the midst of what we said, I lost consciousness of the cool air.  Then I looked up and raised my eyes up the stairs to our front door. 

A nice walk with a good friend is wonderful.