Hair of the Dog
Chapter Five
The wind whipped through Jay's dirty hair, and he howled with ecstasy as he toppled off the board, falling head over heels onto the pavement. The sting of gravel making it's way into his skin made him wince briefly, but overall, it only added to the Technicolor richness of this day. The leaves on the trees--those forever green palm fronds that would never turn orange and red, since Fall was only a dream here in Venice-- the rich blackness of the road, the bright blue of the sky, they all spoke to Jay. Now, Jayboy Adams was not a poet, regardless of how deep his thoughts were, but these days made him wish he was. Made him wish that he could ride words instead of a skateboard, made him desire to master rhymes and meters and paragraphs more than waves.
But he didn't wish long. Today was the day he met a poet.
The most beautiful poet he had ever seen.
Tansy Parker Black was a daughter of a CEO and a hippie, was born in a commune to a single mother, and was permanently attached to her quill pen and jar of ink. She carried them around in a leather pouch, but, surprisingly, used regular notebook paper to write on.
"Quills and Ink make me feel free. However, rough homemade paper makes me feel like punching someone," she would explain, licking the end of her owl feather pen and scratching along on the snowy white paper.
She sat in the shade of one of the "forsaken palms", and scribbled words of prose into her school-bus yellow notebook, humming Pink Floyd songs as she wrote. Jayboy sighed, looking at her for the thousandth time that day.
Her long brown hair, her goddess-bronze skin, the rich blue of her eyes. They spoke to him in a way no other girls features could. Her eyes sparkled as she watched him skate, and deep in her heart, she was thinking the same thing about him. The way his shirtless torso glistened with perspiration as he sped past on the board, the rich red of the gashes in his skin, the scars that shone snowy white on his nut-brown arms. She had been with many boys, and even a few men in her lifetime. Never physically--she wasn't a whore-- but surely emotionally. She had been given roses, serenaded, and more.
She knew she was attractive. But she knew Jay was too. She saw the other girls giving him sidelong glances.
And she knew that she would have to act fast.
But he didn't wish long. Today was the day he met a poet.
The most beautiful poet he had ever seen.
Tansy Parker Black was a daughter of a CEO and a hippie, was born in a commune to a single mother, and was permanently attached to her quill pen and jar of ink. She carried them around in a leather pouch, but, surprisingly, used regular notebook paper to write on.
"Quills and Ink make me feel free. However, rough homemade paper makes me feel like punching someone," she would explain, licking the end of her owl feather pen and scratching along on the snowy white paper.
She sat in the shade of one of the "forsaken palms", and scribbled words of prose into her school-bus yellow notebook, humming Pink Floyd songs as she wrote. Jayboy sighed, looking at her for the thousandth time that day.
Her long brown hair, her goddess-bronze skin, the rich blue of her eyes. They spoke to him in a way no other girls features could. Her eyes sparkled as she watched him skate, and deep in her heart, she was thinking the same thing about him. The way his shirtless torso glistened with perspiration as he sped past on the board, the rich red of the gashes in his skin, the scars that shone snowy white on his nut-brown arms. She had been with many boys, and even a few men in her lifetime. Never physically--she wasn't a whore-- but surely emotionally. She had been given roses, serenaded, and more.
She knew she was attractive. But she knew Jay was too. She saw the other girls giving him sidelong glances.
And she knew that she would have to act fast.