Lost Grape

She filled her cup with cauliflower. That's the kind of person she was, she'd go to a picnic, take a plastic cup, and fill it with the cauliflower. I never could stand cauliflower myself. I'd pick its greener brother, broccoli. Now, radishes, that's what I really enjoy, but how often do you see radishes make an appearance? I wonder if I'd still like them as much if they turned up more.

First thing she said to me was, "Lost a grape. Don't trip on it and die." In one hand was the cauliflower cup, in the other was a plate of loose fruit; strawberries, oranges, blueberries, grapes. A lot of blueberries and grapes, a lot of roly-poly type things that would stay put in a cup but not so much on a plate. This is the kind of girl I'm talking about. The wonderful kind.

I smiled and said, "Thanks for the warning," or something like that, and we had a short smile between us. Some other guy came up with a bun, went right past the tongs and grabbed a hot dog with his fingers. He slathered that puppy with hot mustard and onions (which were utensil-worthy, thank god) and proceeded to eat right there. "Maybe don't eat over the food?" They don't make girls like this anymore, and if they do I've looked in all the wrong places.

She put cookies in her purse. She was drinking beer, but had a wine-mouth, and was giggling the whole time. She threw a frisbee, heck, farther than I could ever throw one. She let a dog lick her face for a good twenty seconds before its owner apologized, which turned out to be completely unnecessary. She had a plate of grapes and a cup of cauliflower. She had so many things and then so many more, so many things I'll probably never know.

You start seeing so much, so many things you didn't even know you wanted to see, and you start blocking other things out. Men. Kids. Rings. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. Believe me, ha, I know. When they all drove off, I don't know how serious I was, but I started looking around for that grape. I went back to the table, tried not to get on my hands and knees, tried to be as inconspicuous as possible. But it was gone. I couldn't find it. And then I realized, even if I had found the thing, heck, I wouldn't trip on it anyhow, not on the dirt and grass like this. I'd only end up squishing it.