Pieces of distraction (or True stories that aren't interesting except to me)

The Reptilian Muse

     I don't know if it's the same one, but I like to believe it is. I've seen him once every few days, like a glimmer out of the corner of my eye. Small, shiny and black, with two yellow pinstripes running the length of his body. His tail is the blue of the midnight sky, almost fully regrown from some previous escape attempt. I was out back reading the other day, and caught sight of him crawling up over the ledge on the gazebo. He stared me down, and I stared at him right back, sizing each other up. Clearly he was dissatisfied with my intent, whatever he deemed it to be, but did not want to give me the glory of a victory based solely on size. Deliberately, he stepped down between the boards underneath the corner light, and disappeared. Coming back and forth to my car, I'll see him poking his little head out from the half-rusted ancient milk can perched outside the house, never taking his unblinking eyes off of me. Yesterday, on my front stairs, a glimmer caught the corner of my eye and I heard him rustle to be unseen in the corner of the steps, out of my view, while he soaked up the sun. He didn't leave the steps though, just stayed out of sight. I don't know what he's intending, but apparently he likes the cut of my jib. I  never heard him move again until I stood up to go back inside. He's hanging around me for a reason. I guess it's up to me to figure it out.

Barfly

     It was hard for me not to stare. She stuck out in a way that so few people do to my eye. I know she saw me looking, several times, but she deigned to ignore anything but a direct approach, and truly I'm not sure if that will ever be my style. She was maybe... Late thirties, early forties. The glasses and haircut told me she had some idea of contemporary fashion sense, but her blouse said that she felt older than she was. She wasn't wearing a wedding ring, but instead a ring on her middle finger that danced the line between tastefully conspicuous and outright gaudy. 

     I could see that her hair was naturally a rich chestnut brown, but it had been colored and highlighted up to a golden hue, the end result on par with that of a perfectly toasted marshmallow. She sipped slowly at her glass of red wine; I assumed it was Merlot, such a common red, but secretly I was hoping it was a Cabernet or Malbec, something spicy or unusual. It certainly would make her more interesting at that, but I doubted it sincerely.

     Deep frown lines marred an otherwise well-kept face. She's either spent most of her life alone, or still has trouble coping with a divorce from... 3 years ago, at my guess. It seemed her natural state was to set her jaw in agitation, but as I watched her, the few times her smile appeared, it was timid, hesitant, as if it were unsure how to behave appropriately on her face, and quickly fled back to whence it came. As if she's afraid to be happy for more than a fleeting moment.

     As I stepped out to smoke a cigarette, I stopped Steph, the bartender, and told her if the woman wanted another glass to put it on my tab. I could go that far, stepping in only indirectly, and only if she chose to stay longer. In the end, she didn't. So it goes, so it goes. 

True stories, without embellishment. I'm proud of myself.

~Edit: it seemed to me, siting through the pages, that this bit belongs in here. It's more in my style of vaguery, but it wasn't written for this space, which lends it a bit more credence in my eyes.

Combination

~

     Sometimes, you have to force it. Nature will not always take its course. It's difficult to do, if you are a person prone to patience. Erosion was a natural occurrence until humanity came along. 

     So hasty we are, harried and worried and fretting each moment, so we try to force the jagged pieces smooth. Shave and shape instead of smooth and polish. Sometimes not even trying this: sometimes just jabbing the ragged pieces together where they don't fit,

    It forces the combination, attempting unity where none can be where non was supposed to exist. These edges cut and tear, and cause more damage than support. While it's true the pieces can fit if you force them, it hardly ever ends up as a lasting bond. 

/

     So I'm forced to sit back and watch. No- forced is the wrong word, but that's how it feels. Frozen, paranoid, self-doubting, self-effacing- unable (unwilling) to move forward.

/

     What I want, what I really want, is right in front of my face, but somehow I have lost the determination, thi blind, winner-take-all mentality that a big part of me believes is necessary.