At the dimly lit bar, I overheard the amusingly drunken girl whisper in her boyfriends ear, Play me the soul in the fish bowl song we like. And then I thought about it. We like. They had listened to it before. Perhaps it was even... And then it occurred to me. While I was barely paying attention (assuming they had stayed together for any duration of significance), I had witnessed the nucleus of that couple finding their song. And then I asked the girl while her boyfriend was at the jukebox, Do you like Pink Floyd? Perplexed, she turned to look at me, raised her eyebrows raised and grinned sleepily. Perhaps she appreciated my hearing. Perhaps it was my dissection of her charmingly inebriated request. Perhaps it was something else. Then she turned to her right, looked at her boyfriend, smiled, and then slowly, languidly, almost hypnotically, she closed her eyes when the song came on. She softly whispered to our quiet end of the bar the most impassioned disclaimer, no, but he does. I thought it through. And as her fingers strummed a transparent instrument, I grinned in a most satisfying way. True story, Summer, 2001.
Posted on: Sat, 24 Jan 2015 04:45:28 +0000
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