present tense

it's happening.
everybody recognizes it. sometimes we talk aboout it, oftentimes it goes unsaid. there is the occasional knowing glance.
changes are afoot.
the next timesten you see me, call me fred astir.

*

i try hard, but not hard enough, not to skip to the end of the page/paragraph/scene. to the part where you know the juice is gonna be. its like, i get so excited about what's gonna happen, it's building up and higher, and the next few sentences are probably where the author is really at one's most poignant, but my eyes just
-jump-
to the last sentence, to the sigh.
then i go back up again,
a bit higher then where i left off
but of course you can never get back the initial exhilaration.

surprising, since i can leave christmas presents under the tree with nary a shake for the full length of advent, and i've often left envelopes unopened for hours or sometimes days to savor the slice of the knife through the paper and the ensuing read. but once the reading begins*

in case you were wondering

i just watched the last four episodes of sex in the city.
the last four ever.
(if you don't want to know anything more about this stop reading)*

they each end up with someone.
yep, all the single girls have a partner in the end.

huh.

115395

is the number of the citation i was handed today, from the police officer who pulled me over after allegedly running a stop sign. while on my bicycle. i have been pulled over in a car before, but never handed a piece of paper in the process. i have been at a red light well past midnight and too full of libations, with one police officer behind me, and another one next to me, who motioned to me to roll down my window and informed me that i ought to turn on my lights. but again, and thankfully, no piece of paper. in each of those situations, my reaction is to just react with my most honest feeling.

and so it was today. but, that feeling was one of...well, i saw the flashing lights, and there she was in her car right next to me in the bike lane, her window rolled down and telling me to "pull over." which made me smile and nearly laugh, cause at my speed in a bike lane with her so close to me, "pulling over" is such an overstatement, i mean, i could and did just stop immediately. when you're in the bike lane, you're so close to being in a state of perpetual pulled over, except in motion. anyways, it set a sort of mood of ridiculousness on the whole interaction for me. but she was all business, and i couldn't be too upset with her. i did not fully stop, though i was far from zipping on through that intersection. and i looked in all directions - ALL directions - that's the thing, i always look behind me when approaching a stop sign. to look for cops. but today john law was driving behind a big old pickup truck, and so, obscured. the morning, especially the morning-out-of-doors on a pleasant day, and i wanted to talk, and learn about this woman's experiences as a police officer. but all the introductory questions that ran through my head seemed like they would sound rude or spiteful or something. i noticed her dark hair had dyed light streaks like mine, the kind that obviously don't belong there, and that was a reminder. the only break from business conversation was at the very end. she told me she was giving me a citation, then she started walking back to her car, and i said 'wait, what does this mean?' "it's not a ticket," because i was on a bike, not in a car. okay, is there a fee? yes, but i don't know how much. REALLY? i mean, i could not help my disbelief from coming out. in general, how can you hand someone a paper that could potentially really impact them, depending on their financial situation, and not even know the cost? she proceeded to show me the folded-like-a-map, abridged version of the traffic code, just a glance really, to show just how much detail was in there, and that she could not be held responsible for knowing all of its contents, now really could she? it ended after that, and i vowed to try to stop running stop lights, and go back to the good little bicyclist i was when i first moved to davis.

but, on the ride home tonight, on deserted, unlit roads, i twice found myself braking after the fact. i also found myself rehasing the incident in my head, except this time really arguing with her, or making it difficult, or simply defending myself more. no, just asking lots and lots and lots of questions. why? you figure out how old i am, no need to ask, you've written down my birthdate. does it matter whether i'm going to school or waht my destination is? (this was her first question, i wish i'd answered differently)

anyways, today, i, one of 14 people in davis who actually wears a helmet while riding, was pulled over and cited for unsafe bicycling. raise your glass high, and then toss it on the floor, on the evening of this very special occasion.