Digital Dating

CJ and Hamilton

Digital Dating

The first time I saw you, you tossed your net.

It was your eyes, staring out at me

from the computer screen, telling me

I’m the one.  I wasn’t certain.

It’s just pixels beating my heart faster.  What if it’s only

your good looks that grab me?  Or did we spend

past lives together?  That’s how much I wanted you

in my arms, to feel the heat of your body against

my breast, to devote my life to your well-being.

Can you be co-dependent with beauty?

All your information, your sad background

of life in alleys, hunted, haunted, lean

almost dying.  The capture.  And  your

aloofness.  Were you lonely?  We would

meet no matter.  If we sniffed and disliked,

if we argued and hissed, then it would not be.

We rendezvoused  but not with your peers.

Just the two of us, supervised, of course.

Would I make the commitment

to touch the swirl of marmalade hair,

to honor the command of your voice, the embrace

that matches no other.  This is not madness,

I claim to those would disdain a new

relationship at my age.  It does not matter.

You are young and I am old.  We are perfect.

I will live longer on your devotion.  We knew

in that first glance of eye, the first touch.

Did others watch? I know not.

I closed my eyes, felt us be.

I waited for the confirmation.

And then the deep roar of your purr

in my ear, your tail around my neck.

To those in doubt,

fear not.  You can fall in love

on line.

C.J. Prince

©2015

When the Water Spirits Call

ImageWater Spirits Sing at Whatcom Falls

There is only one white day on my June calendar.  One open day.  I’d decided it was time to start Zumba.  What is white for anyway?  Space to engage.  And I want to try this class.  However, in the middle of the night my left knee burns me awake.  In the dark I rummage for Traumeel, massage it, and have a chat with my knee.  I sleep past the Zumba hour. 

But in those awake moments of turning and settling pillows, I hear the water spirits call.  Much louder than when I thank them in the shower every morning.  Yes, I will start Zumba some other day but I can walk around the lake and the dogs and I will celebrate the longest day of the year.

ImageBeamer and Zee on the trail

However, the voice was louder than the smooth ripples of the lake and the squawk of ducks.  Much louder.  I put the dog blanket in the back seat, check my supply of plastic clean up bags and slosh on sunscreen.

The dogs are twirling around like they heard the water spirits too.  I have one leash with two attachments.  I pick up Zee, the four pounder, who simply cannot manage a jump up to the back seat.  Beamer, at almost seven pounds has no problem bounding up.  I settle them in, looping the leash to the seat belt.

The ride is longer to Whatcom Falls than to the lake and they ride patiently.  (Note:  this does not always occur.  Frequently there is vomiting.  Another story.)

We park in the shade and walk past the stone wall, stopping every few seconds while their noses inspect endless information that I am happy not to acknowledge.  A group of tourists from L.A. takes their picture.  We are all happy. 

The Falls roar approval at my arrival.  Some primordial contentment fills me.  I have walked this path in other lives, been in the presence of such force before.  It never ceases to fill me. 

Young people in swimming trunks and cut offs scurry along the paths to the swimming hole.  Of course there is no swimming here but it is the ultimate delight to jump from the cliffs into the cool waters downstream from the falls.  Signs are posted everywhere.  These waters are unattended.  There is joy tempered by caution as a jumper hesitates and the jumps or dives.  I send them all blessings for their bravery and celebration on this fine day.

Image

An off leash monster tears in our direction barking like a wild hound.  There is no time to scoop my dogs up.  I take a step forward, push my hand out in a stop gesture and in my sternest voice command “Leave it.”  Miracle.  The dog stops.  The owners appear.  We hurry on and they go in another direction.  Later we happen on them again.  The dog is not a monster but a beautiful American bull dog/Boxer mix.  I manage this information over the furious barking of said dog and the outraged yips from my two aggressors who will just not have this dog in their territory.

I check my cell.  I forgot to activate the Cardio Trainer.  Next time.

Image

As we exit the park, three Papillons come around the corner.  Five wild beasts protesting intruders.  “They all think they’re Rotweilers” one of the women say.  Ah, someone familiar with the breed.