Bar thoughts

In out and about, ozstraylia, writing on February 22, 2010 at 8:56 am

Southpaw, Gertrude St, Fitzroy

I sit in a bar the air conditioning cooling me as much as the chilled bottle placed on the back of my neck moments previously. Held there for deliciously long seconds. Watching the people pass by framed by the window, dressed up, dressed down, hardly dressed at all.

Women pass a bounce in their stride, eyes dark lensed, hair up, neck exposed, wonder if they’ve cooled themselves with a cold bottle to the back of the neck as well. Arms bare, legs bare, resolutely untanned, black vest and pants? in this weather, desire to appear thinner, stronger than being cool? Even see an appearance from the dreaded sun dress over trousers – is not thirty degrees hot enough to show the flesh that you stand upon.

The sun makes long shadows as it settles lower in the sky, cyclists pass by helmets worn like berets, seats too low, knees by their ears, chains rusty and brown, a dirty sanchez across their ankles.

Empty bottles litter the bar, music, female voice and a twanging guitar mix with the burble of predominently female voices, laughter sprinkled intermittently into it. Voices raised as a plate is lost to gravity, ratttling across the tiled floor.

Smell my own sweat, honest toil of cycling exertion, set into the fabric. Wonder at the amount of moisture a body can produce, will I keep producing it indefinitely?

Rub hand through non existent hair and know it’s time to cut it, trim it until the rest of my scalp shows through, irritated by the wisps on my upper lip, and know they will have to go as well.

Turn back to the window and wait for someone else to pass by who will pique my interest…

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