By The Shore—MORNING
I am standing on a catwalk on the docks, waiting in line to board a ship. Headed to points unknown. To pass the time I watch a tattooed redneck couple in front of me. He is scruffy, tall and paunchy even in jogging shorts. She is too skinny and pale and dressed in skimpy black clothes, but for now better to look at than anyone else. Certainly better than the old woman trying make conversation behind me. I strain to hear but I can’t understand their conversation.
As I suddenly realize that this is but another incarnation of Spike and Tina, Tina seems suddenly pissed and pushes away from Spike. She storms back down the gate squeezing past me. Skanky or not, I smile slightly at a cheap thrill on the thin metal walkway.
But now that she’s gone I can see a well-built redhead several yards past the Spike. I hear a voice. I think it is saying:
“This is yours, Frank, from the beach.”
She is coming toward us. Spike is staring at me though. He stealthily points at the redhead and mouths the words “Thank me” with a grin as he leans back over the rail for her to freely pass. I am not as fast and she smiles knowingly as she approaches. As she wedges past, she smashes my foot. And as I double over and open my mouth to say “Excuse me!” Her left breast pops in my mouth as it passing, leaving behind the taste of the blue cotton tank-top. Someone says, “No. Excuse me.” and pinches my side. I turn expectantly, to find Spike, adding “You’re welcome.”
The redhead is gone.
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