A walk

We’re out for a walk. Holding hands. “You’re cute.” “We’re cute.” “So cute that just thinking about it is giving me a reaction.” “Good thing.” “Why don’t we do it in the road?” It’s not like there’s anybody driving on it. I don’t think I’d mind if somebody were doing it in the road. Even if I were trying to drive on it. People do worse things and society tolerates it. “Oh. It would have to be comfortable. I could be on my back.” I get a surprisingly serious answer. “The best position would probably be, I don’t know what to call it, doggy standing up. Maybe braced against somebody’s bumper.” “Or on a hood. But it would have to be a white car on a sunny day like today.” I look around. No white cars. Damn.

So we walk. “There’s a table over there.” In the trees beside the road. “That bench is asking for it. But I’m not that uninhibited yet.” “I might be. Should we find out?”

And we walk. A long, sweet sunny spot kiss. A good one. “That car’s engine is running.” “And it’s white. I think somebody left it there for us.” There is no reason whatsoever to park where that car is parked. Well maybe one reason. “Maybe they’re using it.” “There’s no one in it.” Or on it. “Maybe they’ve found a spot.” And they were in such a hurry they forgot to turn the engine off. “We can ask when they come back.”