Agitarius | Day 58
Getting The Finger In The Driveway, And Bashful Elbows In The Parking Lot
Monday, March 25th (Moon in Vaguus)
Let the tiny dewdrops of romance muddy the soil into which your biennial onion bulbs of pleasure have been long inhumed. Greet your girlfriend, the love of your life, in the driveway, where she will be parked, waiting to take your “son” to school slightly later than expected—because there is road construction between your house and your mother’s, where she roosted for the weekend’s full duration. Wait for the perfect moment to embrace, wrap your arms around her body, kiss her mouth or cheek areas (choose one), and tell her you love her. But time is ticking away, and she is on a call with Taffy (who is in her own driveway behind you) with her “hang on a minute” finger fully perpendicular. But, such as the water from a bursting brook, so too will your love find its way downstream into the river of expression. Hold your hand against the driver’s-side window like a woe-stricken lover at the end of prison visitation hour—except in this case, only one of you will be on a phone, and it will be Bluetooth. Give your girlfriend an amatory nod when she turns her head to the left and you can see the corners of her eyes as she looks in the side-view mirror. At the office, bundle your two fifteen-minute breaks with your half-hour lunch for a full hour of bashful parking lot conversation with E.A. or S.L. Escape further injury to your sore finger by avoiding elbow contact of any kind. Your color of connubial bliss remains—invisible, hopeless, unremarkable—khaki.
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