Perspective

As a kid I used to run away a lot. The most common place I would have been found, had anyone tried to look, would have been the park. I had a tree there that I’d sometimes spend the day in. In that way that boys do, I’d pee from the top of it and jump down and scare little kids from time-to-time. No I never peed on any of them.
I’d often spend hours just laying there in the tallest branches thinking about life. Soon my thoughts would drift to all the happy kids below and how unhappy I was. The thoughts used to make me cry, so I was glad no one could see me.
Later on my thoughts turned to the kid’s mums and how from that vantage you could look right down their tops. I’d watch their ample boobs wobble about in their low cut tops.
Its strange how your perspective can change with age, and how much difference puberty makes. More than anything it gave me something to distract myself with, and boy was I distracted!

Behind

My ex-girlfriend had a rather large bum, which I fell in love with almost instantly. We used to walk from school to her house and I’d sometimes walk slower to get a better view of her rear. Sometimes she’d look back and I’d grin at her and raise my eyebrows cheekily. Most of the time however she just kept looking forward while I took my fill of bottom-gazing, until I’d catch up to her side again and we continued hand-in-hand to her home.
After some time however it became clear that we couldn’t stay together. I had to go to university and so I chose to leave her behind.

Squeeze

Personally speaking I try to squeeze every drop of life from a day. She’s never been like that. Whenever she leaves me she bats her eyes and makes the sign of a telephone with her hand when she says goodbye. I get really pissed off at that. I can’t quite make out the awkward dose of ill-acted senselessness. Simply put, she’s ceased to be significant to me. She’s now as real to me as that hand-telephone she holds unringing next to her ear.
I’m hoping that she’ll soon get bored of me and leave me to my crazy flirting with strangers that comes to nothing and my crushes that last a week and no longer. I’m also hoping that the latest crush Jen found that poem I left in her library book before she returns it. Page 130. If she doesn’t then it becomes a message in a bottle. No doubt someone will find it, next year, when they decide to take a module in Poetic Theory but I’m sure it won’t mean as much to them.
As it begins to snow I realise that these girls, like others, don’t quite see the world the same way I do. They’ve never paid enough attention to the details; never asked too many questions of existence. I realise this and giggle and begin trying to catch the snowflakes on my tongue. I’m thinking how each is unique, like me.