piercings

maybe cupid comes in a number of forms. and maybe he makes his cherubic entrance -- aw, look at that sweet-little, naked wiggler of a cartoon bum! -- a few days earlier than Mr. Calendar (*cough* Mr. Capitalism) had intended.

it's hard to deny the heart-melting powers of that wide-eyed golden retriever waiting in the bright sun on the other side of the window. and i find myself getting a wee weepy (oh, brother...) because of this morning's soundtrack: can hear Mom in Joni Mitchell's complicated voice and can picture my sister barrel-of-laughtering when Tom Waits begins murmurring. but it's a few moments later that cupid really sets his bow and arrow in motion.

a fellow coffee-shop regular starts slowly shuffling over. we've talked only once or twice before, and only ever briefly. he's a quiet, older man who's always engrossed in his newspaper and, especially, in the crossword puzzle. (a man after mine own heart!) when he reaches my table, he rather tentatively holds out his hand and opens his palm. in it, there's a small, red-foil-wrapped chocolate heart. it's my birthday month, he slowly and sweetly explains, so i like to give these out.

dear Heart: consider yourself pierced. and this shot's gonna leave a mark.

and now back to translating...