What it's like being a man when the sun pops out.

Spring starts when the sun creeps out from behind the clouds and
then the clouds vanish and the cold is replaced by something a little
more manageable. Summer arrives just after when it's warm enough to
sport a t-shirt without a jacket. For some people summer arrives in
spring, they shed their jackets and stay that way till sometime in late
September or October when the clouds creep in front of the sun again
and the sun fails to keep you warm on its own.
Spring is when the blossoms start blooming. Sunglasses appear from
nowhere and suddenly the streets and the parks are filled with people
shedding their clothes showing more skin than is manageable to
bear.
That's the time of year when my head gets into permanent motion. Like
the blooming blossoms my hormones are sprouting along everybody else's.
Sometimes I get the feeling that I can't cope anymore, the streets seem
filled with pretty girls and you develop a wanting urge. Wanting it
all. And just to look isn't always enough, the smiles being exchanged
on those sunny faces do the rest, puts you in a permanent turmoil. I
can't do it, just wanna sit somewhere, prime spot, watch people go by
and keep on smiling till just perhaps I am being spoken to. Someone I
desire, when it's everyone I desire. How do you cope, how do you keep
yourself under control. It's one of those things I find troublesome. I
enjoy though, but wish I could be immune and just get on with
everything else.
But the sun gets in the way and so do those female bodies which keep
wandering past with a smile never to far away. What better to do then
head into the closest park right after work, get a beer in, maybe two,
sit in the grass in a well chosen spot reading a book while glancing
above the rims of those glasses which feel to big, but hide you well.
And the trouble is what you discover just beyond is what makes you weak
and you know you like and start to drift from one daydream to the next.
It's destructive and I never manage to read more than just perhaps a
chapter.
Some mate pops by, suddenly you feel someone tap you on the shoulder
and you turn in anticipation just to discover someone with the same
haunted expression as you. Then you sit there together not reading
anymore although you never really did anyhow, instead you are both
sending furtive glances around and never fail to point out areas of
interest to each other. I am not certain whether it's sad or something
that just happens. Measure the intensity of a couple of guys as they
sit and watch, their blank minds occupied with thin air and rosy
fantasies and you could fill a pretty big box in a short time. I have
this one friend whose expressions weigh more than anyone else's I know.
You can read him like a cartoon, or a silent movie everything is
exaggerated, last time I saw him he had grown a beard it hid some of
them but never the lot. I guess that's why people with beards have a
bad name, it's a bit like wearing great big mirrored shades at all
times. If you wear both don't be afraid in the dark cause chances are
you'll be there by yourself. But other then the muggers who don't care
who they pick there is not much threat out there. We spotted a fox the
other night, it was quick to vanish behind a fence. How about an urban
fox hunt I thought and could just about imagine the hunters in their
outdated uniforms abandoning their horses to climb over that fence and
chase the poor creature back onto the street. Not too different from a
group of lads after the pubs close who chase someone they can into a
corner before giving them a good kicking for no good reason.

© Marcus Bastel