Golden Gate Sunday
some stinky stuff in the grass don't know what it is don't really want to know what it is cuda decides she wants to get up front and pussnal with said stanky stuff sticks snorts her nose down deep in the green green grass she savors the sweet sweet smell which bitch slaps my ol factory does the front kneel screw top twist into the grass slithering on her back like the wanton whore she is legs wide open wriggling writhing grunting
damn i wish i could be so happy
sitting on the bench in the park it's sunday it's sunday noon in san francisco the streets in the park near the redwood grove little open field with a couple of benches down near the road it's sunday the streets in the park are closed john eff kennedy drive is closed jay eff kay drive no cars no traffic on sunday sitting on the bench occasionally tossing a slopping wet tennis ball into the air maybe ten feet in front of me maybe fifteen or twenty feet high slobber flying off in globulous strands cuda leaps up twists spins lunges and comes down with the slimy dripping dayglo orb between her long shiny white teeth
shaking her head back and forth like she just snatched a wood duck out of the air
over and over again maybe a thousand times maybe twenty thousand times monotonous i throw it she does her thing i pat the bench she brings it up drops it in my hand i'm leaning back legs extended and crossed in front of me left arm on the back of the bench i throw it she does her thing i pat the bench she brings it up drops it in my hand i'm leaning back i throw it she does her thing
the fog she slides by right to left you can see her feel her slithering in from the beach little forward wisps followed by billowing breasts of mist it's not cold though kind of muggy yesterday it was a hot day it's part of the cycle don't you know i mean myself i prefer the cool breasts chilled nipples of sweet ocean nectar others prefer the sun her cycle lends just a little bit of love to everyone
runners cyclists skateboarders walkers roller bladers roller skaters frisbees exit the fog from the right and break out into the dampened light in front of me runners cyclists skateboarders walkers roller bladers roller skaters frisbees enter the fog from the left and fade away from my gaze
she is wearing blue running shorts you know the nylon kind wispy a blue tank top blue jogging bra yeah yeah yeah i caught it all she has the blonde hair tied back in that seattle outdoorsy suburban look cute but really not my type a little too healthy for me she'd probably give me lectures on recycling and compost i don't want any lectures just get down on your knees and beg me for my cock but do it in that silicon valley middle management sort of skirt so that you tear those stockings on the sidewalk
remember my fair haired jockette no pain no gain
her short stride is deceptive can't tell if it's the i'm conserving energy because i'm heading out on a long fucking run or if it's the jesus fucking christ i'm out of shape i can't believe i've only been running six hundred fucking yards and when she says fucking there is special emphasis on the fuck and less on the ing because she thinks her lips look pouty when she says it but it really only makes her sound like she just stepped out of a double wide with a pee bee are
not that i don't find that image highly erotic at times especially if in said image she's wearing some cheap smock of a cotton dress and the wetness beneath her breasts and the wetness between her legs causes the smock to stick in just the right places emphasizing the positive if you will
walk back through the rose garden cuda floating around with her nose in the grass some roses blooming late summer bloom a lot with no blooms at all dude sitting on a bench reading some civil war book one of those new york times best seller novelizations of some tender horrible moment of some tender horrible battle in what at times is rendered a highly romantic noble quest for justice unity liberation freedom righteousness come on guys it was just another fucking tragic shithole of an excuse to slaughter human beings in the name of some virtuous cause
old dude sitting on another bench legs crossed crease in his khakis crisp cuffs pressed mens only jacket unzipped over his yellow polo shirt collar turned up white socks white bucks forty dollar hair cut can't follow his gaze don't know where it's going must be looking inward i hope it's a nice view
heading toward fulton family of four comes toward me mom dad pushing stroller little boy about three circles around as they pass hand out reaching where cuda's tail would be if she had a tail i intercept and turn cuda around whisper gently to the kid that he should never approach a big dog from the rear like that turn cuda around so he can pet her on the head she sits she licks his face
he giggles parents finally notice junior is gone mom comes running back dad stops looks impatient i smile don't say anything to the mom just watch as she leads the rug rat away she is trying to apologize i don't know why i whisper goodbye to the kid as he looks back over his shoulder waves with his free hand grins
i stand up and walk the other way cuda follows the light turns green we cross over and head to the house
sunday afternoon and all that
