endless rain into a paper cup
They slither while they pass
They slip away across the universe
Lyrics from "Across the Universe" (the Beatles) sift through air laden with espresso and artificial sweetener--I am distracted by a GIANT creature lumbering past the window. It is a Great Dane in blotches of brown and white, accompanied by a woman and stroller, both of which could probably ride this dog instead of jaunting along beside it. They are just one of the many such ensembles dotting the sidewalks in downtown Kirkland on any given morning--woman and beast, endeavoring to do that great deed which they have done every day, "the walk," except for when at the salon getting the hair done (yes, even the dog), possibly with tomorrow's walk in mind.
In the lowlights of dawn, I grope for black dress pants, a black shirt, black flats, and for good measure, a brightly patterned scarf. Contrasts, you know.
My mind drifts, perhaps not across the universe, but at least across the I-405 overpass, down to the waterfront apartments. I have not made a habit of peeping into rich condominium windows, but if I were to, I know Women A, B, C, and D would also be reaching for black pants. Yoga pants. Short socks, tennis shoes with new performance insoles placed carefully inside, sports bra and sport shirt of sweat-resistant synthetics, light jackets (insert name brand of choice) = ready to go. They are dressed for a Half-Marathon Challenge at the least, but a walk along Lake Washington will do.
Well, not quite ready to go, actually. The warrior companions, as the ancient Anglo-Saxon tribes called their kinsmen, must be readied as well. Women A, B, C, and D are going to walk their dogs. Not the yo-yo trick. Real dogs. Real, yet unlike the great beast I just saw outside my window, really small. Really small dogs.
Woman A nearly cries herself after stepping on Princess's delicate paw with her new New Balance Performance Runners. Such an unearthly noise to come from such a tiny, irresistibly cute body. Princess is the size of a NFL game ball. Woman A quickly snatched up Princess, coos in her face, and tenderly wraps her little self in a sport sweater, just Princess's size, to keep her warm on this morning's excursion.
Princess will only be able to last about two blocks though, hurt paw, you know. Woman A will again swoop up the dog and carry her for the last two blocks.
Woman B brushes her Fredrick's fluffy hair until evenly full of static electricity. Fredrick sparks over to the door dutifully, waits for his studded collar, so he matches with Mommy's watch. Fredrick feels proud of himself, so much so that he begins to quiver all over. He is surprised to feel himself pee right on the front-door rug.
Woman C awakens to something cold on her hand. She groans. She knows it is George. George is hungry, as usual. It has been a long time since he hoovered up the last kernels of kibble from his dish some two hours ago. George must nudge Woman C's hand from the floor because the very thought of heaving his stubby frame onto the bed makes him even more famished and would require levitation. For now, his paws have a ring of thick skin ruffling them; his breathing is labored.
Woman C groans again. She predicts her nearly daily trek to Starbucks for her morning hot chocolate, whole milk and whip, yes please, will seem extra far this morning. She hopes some passing BMW will at least appreciate her triathlete attire. After all, dedication should count for something. It's only been four days since she walked to Starbucks and only one day since she drove there.
Woman D breaks the stillness in her room with a scream: "Arieeeeeeeeeellll!" She noticed her absence while applying moisturizing bronzer spf 15. Where was Ariel? Not in her cushy bed, not under the plush pillow with dog-bone print, not under the silk bedskirt. Where was Ariel? Had she been taken? Crooks these days look for any opportunity. Ridiculous ransoms, power games. Goodness, there might be an intruder right now!
Woman D tries to stifle the panic quickly tightening in her throat. She picks up a wire hanger and creeps out her door, into the quiet hallway. The sitting room and entry way are dim, gauzy light from the curtained windows making the scene hazy and eerie. She carefully tip-toes down the stairway--"oh no!" she's forgotten her iphone upstairs, too scared to go back. Bare feet on the cold stone landing make her shiver. All seems quiet...
"Argh!!!!!" Piercing scream, a sudden movement by the door. Woman D's purse is moving. Moving. Two pointy ears pop out--Ariel is ready for their walk early in her trusty portable and fashionable "carrier."
..."don't you be so bad..." Espresso and sweetener and music drift back into my revery.
...Words are flying out like
endless rain into a paper cup
They slither while they pass
They slip away across the universe...
endless rain into a paper cup
They slither while they pass
They slip away across the universe...
I slip across I-405.
I don't own Yoga pants.
I don't own a small dog.
I just drink coffee and smirk at the combination of the two.
