One Finger, Two Fingers, Three Fingers, Four

It was the perfect early evening to meet up with someone and wash our cars together, and so I did just that. We met smack dab at 8:45- still light out, but on the cusp of dark.

As per usual, someone at the car wash will inevitably be blasting music- wonderfully ignoring the "No Loud Music" signs so that all of us can enjoy the sound while we work. Mostly boys and men with crisp baseball hats and sparkling jewelry that do a double take at women cleaning their cars at night. It always feels so friendly. Welcoming. Fun. Sometimes I chat methods with the boys and men: There's always an amused curiosity in their eyes.

Here's what you need to know about me and washing cars:

I will try and get any and everyone to go wash cars with me.  Yes, there are a number of people in my life who have preferred the drive-thru type car wash, but I always attempt to lure these folks (sometimes virgins, sometimes not) to go with me to a do it yourself place. Some are willing to take me up on it.  Some are not. No matter what my relationship is to the person, car washing with a person is one of the most important bonding experiences with me.

Unrelated or related, depending on the person: It is also one the sexiest things in the world to me.  Washing a car is like sex to me, and to observe how someone else washes their car is much like a window (or a preview, depending on your relationship to the person) into how they fuck. Sometimes I will watch. Sometimes, I will stick to my own business. But when I observe, I observe their attention to detail, their willingness to get dirty, their level of unblinkingness when they get wet, the level of un-self-conscious positions they are willing to get into while vacuuming, the amount of pressure, of force, of delicacy --- all of it.

Tonight it was July and a few random fireworks could be heard booming and exploding in the distance.

It is summertime, indeed. 

(pause)

I had a long conversation with one of my favorite people in the world today. We covered everything imaginable and the beauty of a mystery that must remain unsolved because solving it would dissolve its very bones and direction.

For now, something I've jotted down to fill in the blanks of things that make my toes curl in the best of ways:

Nothing Feels Better Than...  (A Poem)

People who influence
and are open to influence
(not in relation to drugs
but rather)
of the intellect
the mind
the body
the heart
the flesh
there is no other singular way to open me
than all five of these at once

Medical fetish fully owned
because we all know those antique gadgets
are merely just tempts of measured torture
mixed with today's
steel instruments lined up
in order
one by one by one
upon
fresh thin noisy paper
the smell of astringent
mixed with latex gloves

The dress that exposes my collar bone
continuing down
past my breasts
to two inches above my waist
black against the pale of my skin
back straight
chin high
follow the line that goes
from my lips
to my neck
and continues
all the way down my chest

My ideas of
adventures and art and music and aesthetics and politics and family and humor and sex
mixed together
with the ideas of another
Actualized
a mystery box of us both
the kind used in science classes
Opaque, thick-painted wooden boxes with hinged lids
and a hole cut into one side
for you to reach in
and feel
not knowing what it holds
The thrill and the terror
of not knowing
what we will find
but always being curious and connected and true enough
to slide your hand inside

The mark
and the bravery
of truly wanting
to know




-k.

(image is Bondage 506 by Dusty and Lara via tumblr via picssr dot com)