Additional dialogue from a Work In Progress:

*Setting: It could be in a coffeehouse. Probably was. Repartee between an attractive  young woman, medium-to-slender build, pretty face reminiscent of the young old-time actress from Brooklyn, NY, Susan Hayward, about maybe say 23 years old; She’s a kid but an experienced one, not a child or a hayseed yokel suburbanite bumpkin yo-yo; & “one sick muthafocker”  (but in decent physical shape, younger looking & attitudinally than his chronological age; attractive enough, very interesting well-traveled well-versed  reasonably-talented woman-crazy grifter slightly bipolar borderline personality kinda guy with artistic/criminal pretensions age approximately 63. Okay? So you know upon whom that character is based. We’ll call him what? Should I have a name-the-crazy-guy contest? Call him Man With No Name for Now aka GP aka JSW.

As for Her I can’t give you her real name obviously. We’ll call Her S.

Anyway, this is inspired by my very lovely New Muse.

 This isn’t necessarily reportage. Its hard to tell where a work of the imagination begins & ends & where its interwoven with actual events.

 Just something She’s inspired. No poetry yet, I don’t think. That was the Old Muse’s specialty. This is my New Prose Muse. I still send out love-vibes to all my old muses & muse finalists & associated persons with female organs & others I’d rather not  get into very much about at the current historical moment in space-time. I guess that’s about it.

Question: What does it mean when a woman’s eyes light up when she sees you? That’s how I know…

“Do you still sing? I thought I’d heard you once.”

“Only in the shower.”

“Sounds good in there does it? Maybe I can hear you sing again some time. Wet & naked.”

“That’s usually how it goes…”

“I bet I can make you hit some pretty high notes.”

“I bet you can.”

A little lull in the conversation never killed anyone.

“@!$%#…” I said apropos of nothing. Well nothing in particular.

“Not now. Do ask me later though…”

“I will.”.

“Don’t you ever have performance anxiety?”

“Only when I perform…Just pretend I said something witty.”

“You are a funny boy.”

“That’s quite a compliment. Thanks.”

“You are.”

“What? Funny or a boy?”

“Both.”

“I’m not a boy. You’ve had boys. Now you need a man.”

“You’re the one. Don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried. I never sweat it.”

“Nothing you’d admit anyway.”

“That’s all I’ll say about it now. I don’t want to deplete my store of magic.”

She made a face, blew out her cheeks a moment, nodding. That said what? She understood me (or so she thought)? Liked my style? It was a funny face. A school-girl’s face. She was just a kid, after all.

“What was that all about?”

“What?”

“Was that your orangutan impression?”

“Orangutan? Orangutan  yourself!”

 She wasn’t mad. She wasn’t insulted. She had no shame. She had no fear. (She was with me, wasn’t she?) Conscience I still didn’t know about. But it would behoove her not to rely on it all too much. That is, when she was around me.

“Is that what you think of me? Just some big ugly monkey woman?”

“Sure. I like monkeys. Don’t matter if they’re ugly or not. I like women. Period. Perfect match. That’s all we are anyway…”

“Don’t you believe in God?”

“The Monkey Goddess. I pray to Her every chance I get.”

“You get down on your knees to Her a lot?”

“I’ll show you some time.”

“Some time soon?”

“I hope. Maybe some time today.”

“Promise me.”

“I do. Hey…what is this? Will you marry me?”

“Sure.”

“I want to go to bed with you.”

“We’ll see.”

“Your place or mine?”

“Well since I’ve a live-in boyfriend it had better be yours.”

Shows how much I really knew about her. Women are pretty complex beings, aren’t they? Deceptive as all @!$%#.

Years ago that would’ve taken me way off guard. I might’ve ended up in a catatonic state or knocked somebody’s teeth out or gotten my own knocked out.

I think she thought it cool that I didn’t let it faze me. Mark one up for the old guy. I must’ve learned something over the years.

I returned to the fray.

“I dunno. I think I like the idea of doing it before an audience too.”

“All right. If you insist.”

“Or maybe better yet another time. My place is good. As long as we don’t make too much  of a racket. Noise travels far & fast in the mountains.”

“I can hold you to it. I can turn on you in the blink of an eye.”

“That would be too sad. But it happens.”

“I guess first you want to take me for a test-drive in private.”

“I like that. I’ll get behind  your wheel & pump your breaks & push your accelerator…& pull your trigger…”

“Blow my mind?”

“Where’d you get all this ancient 60s jargon?”

“Mom.”

“@!$%# my brains out.”

“Only if you @!$%# out mine…”

“That was the general idea…”

“@!$%# you…”

“…she explained…”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

Of course, that was like saying: Ignore that bull elephant in the middle of your living room. 

©  2012 Greenpagan aka JSW & Y.S. Warshofskii

*Note: Plagiarizers will be summarily burned at the stake. I know that’s patently unfair but…It’s the only shot you got. [Thx  in part to Elmore Leonard the screenwriter of “Joe Kidd”  starring  Clint Eastwood.]

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