Velvet Nights

My now good friend, JJ Lefors (sunshine in human form), and I took a stroll last night to the Washington Monument. We parked her little on-loan blue Yaris on Madison or Jefferson or Abraham or some other presidentially named street running the length of the Mall. We had pulled up with the radio blaring and startled an old Indian man and his wife sitting on a park bench; who, rather than making out, which would have been somewhat gross but would also have had a cuteness factor, were instead sitting facing two different directions, not even touching, which couldn't have been good for their relationship. Immediately upon disembarkation, we heard the lilting old timey strains of "It Had to Be You" drifting out from the loud speakers at the American History museum. I stopped dead still in the middle of the street. The doors had long since been locked, and the inside swam in darkness, but outside, over concrete still very warm from the day's intense rays and humidity, played this classic forties' tune that immediately had me wishing for a USO ball and sleek hair rolls. I had no other choice but to slip off my flip flops and dance. No one was around, and I don't think I would have cared much if they were. The Indian man was still draped over the back of the bench, looking in our direction and must have thought it strange that I was jumping up on the border walls, step-touching the length of them in time to the music.

It's moments like these when I fall in love with this city again. DC and I are very tenuous lovers. I get dissatisfied and am frequently unfaithful, flitting off to try out other places, sights and sounds, but in return, DC retorts that it never made me any promises. Eventually, it comes around and woos me again, making me want to stay just a little bit longer. I can't make a commitment, but it's fun for now, and as long as it keeps up the surprises and spontaneity, I think I can linger and see if we can't work out our issues. Don't worry baby, I say. I'll still get dressed up for you, kick off my heels and walk barefoot on your streets. I may leave again soon, but you're still the one I come back to for now. That will have to be enough. Just don't forget to keep bringing me flowers and evenings of velvet.