The Bawdy Bowler
We had just left the bowling alley when a distraction by my friend allowed me to slip away from him.
Before he could stop me, I was already down the alley and rounding the corner.
A strong breeze at my back—a breath of tantalizing freedom.
Twice I was able to evade… staying just beyond the man’s grasp.
My friend, skirting across the tightly compacted rooftops, toppled piles and clattered debris in my wake. Reaching down, they caught me—but had not the strength to extract me. Even so, without the help, I’d have been caught for certain.
With one final burst, I flung myself against a fence… but the man caught up—struck me twice with his open hand.
He grabbed me with both hands, and—in slow, almost cinematic motion—he thrust his head toward me.
As his forehead closed in, I contemplated my fate.
For one brief, glorious moment, before being thrust back onto his head, I was free, thanks to my friend—the wind.