Doctor says I need to move about more, which has translated into walks to the lake. I dunno, this all feels a bit much. An old man feeding ducks. I’m a hotel painting: Elder Feeding Birds on Rock Pond.
Across the way two young roughs compete. With each athletic endeavor the show becomes more and more a spectator sport. The short one takes off his shirt and does some ineffective stretches.
Thick shoulders, defined abs; those forearms take work. Legs aren’t nothing to write home about but most people wouldn’t notice. His friend sets a mark of fifteen half hearted dips on the children’s parallel bars they both now survey. He readies himself and then away he goes. Elbows flare as he leans forward. His undisciplined form finds every cheat. The count comes to rest at seventeen.
After boasting success to his comrade in arms, he checks for onlookers but finds only me. My gaze steadies unflinching upon him.
“You eyeing me, old man?”
A little more bread crumbs for the walking infectious.
His lip curls. “You wanna suck my dick?”
He’s flexing, sucking in his abs. I crack a smile.
“No.”
“Then you might want to stick to your birds.”
He only manages a half turn before I reply. “I was recalling when I used to look like you.”
Following a smirk, his hand flicks backward towards his friend in a ‘do you believe this shit’ kind of way. “You never fucking looked this good. I put up a 440 deadlift, a 380 squat, and bench 320. How much you ever push?”
“I don’t know. When I was your age the gooks never challenged me to any kinda weight lifting competition.”
The boy, since that’s all he really is, quiets down. Not sure if I would know how to reply myself.
“No, looking at you I remember how confused I was. After the war my dick ran the show. Lot of late nights chasing warm beds. Believe me, those beds belonged to the most beautiful women and they wanted me because I was cut from granite, much like you. I had no care in the world for the saint that waited for me with my ring on her finger. Boy did the girls line up. And I told myself she couldn’t get mad ’cause they were all so much prettier than she was. But even if she couldn’t get mad I could. Ran my anger into old boot camp drills until my legs gave out. If that wasn’t enough to quell it I left the rest in bruises across her face.” I laugh, a sick, disgusted laugh. “I swear the only genuine happiness I ever saw in her came with the cancer.” A hail mary toss releases the last of the feed from my hand. “I was confused. But for all my faults my form was perfect. So pull in your fucking elbows you pussy shit.”
Filed under: Writing