Rink

"Love will come through it's just waiting for you."

It was the scene of a bad 70s movie. The rumpled streaked blue carpet,
the big bubble letters hanging on the walls. The back wall lined
with skates, four wheeled and leather, straight wheeled and plastic.
Mysterious shadow blanketing the back of the rank, the cracked
half walls, the polished wooden floor. I wheel up, snapping the closures
on my skates. Dressed to kill in the skinny yoga pants and off the shoulder
shirt, I fit right in. At first unsteady, but gaining balance and making my way
to the floor. Stepping on, holding onto the wall. But wait, I know this.

Beginning to make my way around the rink, one foot in front of the other,
gliding, freedom. I want to laugh with the delight of being in control.
Friend skates up, holding hands. We slide and glide along together,
having our girly fun. The lights begin to blink with the steady colors
of blue and green, red and yellow. The beat vibrates from the DJ.
Friend lets go, I'm on my own, traveling solo. But you cut in front,
slow down unknowingly. I have nowhere to go, trapped, I reach
for you. I go down flat on my ass, but you're there to help me up.

Smiling, there's something in our eyes, but gone in a blink.
We continue on in our solo way, tasting the sweet nectar of freedom
and power, control and speed. A crowd of our friends gather on the wall,
a picture. I try to stop, but run into the wall, the toes of my skates slamming.
You, already there, wrap an arm around my waist, safety. I do not crash
over the wall. You look into my eyes, there's something there, but I cannot
put my finger on it. I do not quite know. We continue on our solo way.
But it is not long before my solo run, gliding along the outer circle,
becomes a joint adventure as you skate next to me, dancing along,
just as in beat with me as you are with the music. You reach for my hand,
I place mine in yours. If there were not a ceiling above, sparks
would have flown. No longer is it a solo adventure, for I have you at my side.