Body English We speak in tongues. My mouth to your ear. Your ear to my mouth. We speak in tongues, Use body English. Mouth to mouth. Heart to heart. Parts of speech. Each. Our every slip of the tongue is graceful. Our best syllables are silent. We speak in tongues. Our skins make conversation. Talk to me.Two secondary-school kids move up the curving escalator. She lifts his chin up, touches his face with the back of her fingers. I smile at them, their young love that knows no heartache. A couple diagonally in front of me seems more stressed up; they look uncomfortable. The guy gestures with his hands, the woman sits passively, as if listening to some bad news. Is he breaking up with her? Or is he just a confidante trying to beat some sense into her? Another attractive couple gazes into each other's eyes. They aren't holding hands. Maybe they are just friends. To have friends like that is just wonderful; love, per se, for its own sake. A new pair drops by, a perky woman with a very short flowing skirt, and her bald friend. They sit right in front of me. She distracts. Nonetheless, I will finish my book today, at this oasis that costs five dollars. I should do this more often. And you may take the empty seat...
Friday, August 5, 2005
It has been years since I've sat at a cafe to read a book and sip drugs. The quiet Starbucks at Far East Plaza has closed and is now replaced by a Subway. I love that place; a tiny, quiet, out-of-place that few people know existed. The walls are curved so one could just hide behind them or the strategically placed pillars, and disappear. It's an oasis in the midst of noisy and crowded Orchard Road area. So I walk around to see if I can find another similar place to have some Ice Mocha. I need a quiet place. And I think I've found it, as I'm walking around Wheelock Place tonight; the rear entrance of Borders, the CoffeeBean. I've walked there countless times but have never really noticed it. The large area at the bottom of an atrium isn't crowded tonight. I order my five dollar mocha. The vortex of energy created by the curve-moving escalators seems to swirl anti-clockwise, much like a tornado. Funny thing is, sitting there feels like being in the eye of the storm; it's absolutely calm. The coffee-sipping patrons already there are all in pairs. The chair in front of me screams its emptiness. Yes, I don't have a date. I am my own date. With the book I have with me tonight. Two fluffy seats away, a couple snuggles; the lady with a white top and short shorts is saying something to her spouse, into his ear. She's almost nibbling it. This goes on for about ten minutes, maybe more. I read my book, the chapter ends with a poem by Neruda.
Posted by jeffyen at 11:35 PM