“Saw that new girl today, the one who’s, umm…curvy.”
*says the word and flinches, seems to equate it to having scurvy*
“Ha! You mean the fat girl? Heard she was talking to Joe.”
*indignant*
“I didn’t say she was fat!”
*giggles*
“Just, you know…”
*snorts*
“Okay. But say, is she pretty?”
*hesitates*
“Hmm, could be. But her size…it’s a pity.”
“Excuse me”, comes my little voice, emerging from my rapture,
“I don’t mean to butt in, but couldn’t help capture
the topic of conversations and, well,
I was just wondering…
Who is this girl? Do you know her name?
Have you asked her opinion of the weather?
What are her deepest fears?
Her highest ambitions?
Just wondering…
Does she cry herself to sleep or sing in the shower?
Does she prefer a good tear-jerker or a gory horror film?
How many countries has she been to?
How many songs has she sung?
Just wondering…
Has she ever been kissed?
Does she write novels, play cricket, paint landscapes,
or perhaps all three?
Did she bake a cake for her grandmother’s 90th?
Personalise it with pink and gold sprinkles and generosity?
Just wondering…
Is she an Aquarius? I hear they’re the best dreamers…
Just wondering
When she last smiled at the sunrise or wept at the beauty of the moon…
For, much as I appreciate your need for idle chat,
I was just wondering…
Because to me, a girl is so much more than that.”
Woes of a Second-Level Wuddhist 