Jack and Jill.
Never have I seen a more perfect definition of love. No written piece, fact or fiction, had ever depicted what I now see in clear view. The truly innocent nature of it all is something I must confess has put a smile on my face.
Her hair was blond, and his a shade of brown. Both slim, their lightly bronzed supple skin demanded attention from passer-bys, as it has from me. Nothing of a mismatch in the slightest, they soot ensnared in the untamed vines of love.
I can’t make out what they are saying, but I make it up and mouth it softly to myself.
“Oh jack, I…”
I’ve hypothetically named him Jack.
“Oh Jack.” She says. “I feel as if I’m spinning. My mind is racing and heart pounding and this has been constant since my eyes fell upon you.”
“Jill.”
She is now Jill. Yes, Jack and Jill.
“Jill.” He replies. “And I too am feeling this way. The butterflies in my stomach are a sensation like that of which I’ve never felt before.”
My hypothetical dialog feels even to me as if it fell from a bad romance flick, but it’s my situation and I’ll say it how I please.
The breeze is soft, the air chilled and sun distant, which only enhanced the effect of two lovers. I know it’s wrong to watch anybody in such a way and voyeur is no title which I cherish, though one must do as he must.
Love from the true artist’s scope. How poetic, indeed.
A chill runs down my spine as I watch the two lovers passionately kiss. Hand in hand, they pull close and the world stops for these two individuals, for that moment nothing else exists.
It’s the epitome of splendor.
It makes one wonder how long this love affair in the form of a runaway train has been tearing up the rails of their one track minds?
Who knows and who cares?
The answer to this is frivolous.
The point is that they are where they are now, lost and in love. Truly blind, but blissfully so none-the-less, the world and its flaws go unnoticed when weighed against the sheer power of their desire for one and other.
How do I know?
Because Jack and Jill so straightforwardly and magnanimously tell me so, but perchance they reveal too much. Even from this distance I can see it all.
I see it in their eyes as they light up like the morning sun with every subtle glance, I see it in the gentle way they caress each other as if their loving counterpart might break to pieces with the slightest miscalculation of applied pressure, but most of all I see it in the things they don’t do. Regardless of the fact that they are in a fairly busy park, they don’t even as much as momentary look at another person.
Pedestrians and passerby’s mean not a thing to them as they sit on their little blanket spread out on their little patch of grass which they’ve staked their claim for a picnic. On a tiny hill under a tree they sit feeding each other assorted foods, laughing uncontrollably and living life as if there were no tomorrow.
To find contentment whilst trudging through the bleak monotonous triviality that is best known as the human condition must be like taking your first breath. It’s so pristine, so invigorating and most of all so inexplicably petrifying.
Itchy finger irks the mind.
I adjust my corrective lens from which I view these lovers, wipe the sweat from my brow and take a deep breath. The moment of truth is upon us. Time stands still for no one and though life may present such a feeling in the form of an illusion, the sands of time fall steadily for every man at the same pace.
Much like Cupid, I take my shot.
Their final grain of sand falls to its brethren.
I’ll cash my check in the morning.