the things we do for love

we're talking loudly across the dog park (meaning: he's talking to me and i'm being nice and responding from the plastic lounge chair where i'm attempting to read the journal i wrote when i was 9).

he's enthusiastically telling me about the "soapy-suds" dog wash place and describing each step in great detail.

there's a girl standing next to him but she walks away and he gravitates towards me.

his dog is a 4 month old, 55 pound st. bernard named layla moon and she is the cutest thing i've ever seen.

of course bodhi fell for her hard, and within a few minutes had her down on the ground, stroking her face gently with his paws. 

derek continued his saga of drug dealing parents and friends who died of o.d.s

we discussed our many tats and talked about how harshly we're judged, even in a place as "groovy and progressive as asheville. it's time to go and as i leave i see the obvious turn of heads, that "oh no, don't let them see us staring," look.

it was cluster of soccer moms and yuppie dads...and yes, i may be judging but their clothes and mini-vans pretty much screamed republican.

they were very concerned with their dogs and who they interacted with when all derek and i wanted was a moment of peace and for our dogs to run and jump and play and get their ya-ya's out.

one of the soccer mom's neurotic dogs hunches down and pinches out a big long turd and bodhi promptly eats it.

derek and i laugh as the s.m. runs over and scolds the dog while picking up the poo with a green plastic doggie bag. she looks so irritated and i wonder if she's off her meds.

when i get back to my car bodhi gives me a big wet lick/kiss that smells faintly of foreign

shit. 

the things we do for love.