Ms. Girner and I Peep

We spied on some voluptuous types bathing on 14th Street. Then we went to look at huuuuuuuuuuuge fantastical wonderful magical photographs by some Swedish dude...they were hypnotic...apparently he is also a sculptor. We stared at one of an almost-life-sized buffalo resting inside a cloud of tully fog... he had another of a huge tree, a weeping willow, also amidst the fog...it was like a gradient exercise of browns, tans, beige, dirt, camel, creme, grey, fog, white...we examined the catalog and walked calmly around the gallery, relaxed, not stressing...maybe thinking to ourselves: there will be time for you, and time for me, and the taking of a tea, TS etc etc...When you're ready you know, you know? We then bopped into Ricky's costume shop with Matty and bought some fake blood and a blow-up doll. I saw Sarah a few days later, on Halloween...she had painted herself over with white face paint, beautiful red lips, and immaculate, dried rivers of blood along her graceful neck...the black coming off her eyes was less scary than complimentary to her blue-green eyes...her cheekbones shone...she is a painter, too, then...should have known from her handwriting...and should have just known, in general, as she has always been able to envision what she wants to see: on a contact sheet, on the wall, through the frame...to perfection. While she walks briskly along 3rd Avenue, I dance myself into distraction, while she travels to Westchester, I amble wherever Brooklyn is that day, while she organizes her two-and-a-quarter negs, I wait in line at Walgreens for my cd of jpgs...but when we see each other we embrace, fully...fully...I want some of what SHE got, but it's so much nicer to feel her love me than feel myself green, with envy.