Tattoos at work

At the register.

I noticed an intricate tattoo on the wrist of a strikingly attractive woman standing across from me. I asked if it hurt – the tattoo. She said, “No.” And before I could say anything, she said, “But i’m a freak and like pain.” Oh wow. I enjoyed hearing that too much.

I’m noticing tattoos more. At around noon today the crowd was mostly construction worker-ish and I saw a lot of amazing forearms. Some had depth. Like squiggly wormy things with shadows sweeping across ssssskin. Beautiful. I remember once I was at some amusement park when I was much younger, like 10 or so, and saw a forearm covered entirely with spiderweb and thought Oh wow. It must’ve hurt. That’s always the first thing you think – I wonder if this amazing and perfect art hurt or damaged your imperfect skin. And if it did, did ya kinda like it?

I have a friend who has striking features – her skin’s a little darker than mine, her hair is jet black and pin-straight – she’s boxom too. Right below her neck, on her back is an Armenian “Eh.” Oh wait, this makes no sense to anyone. It’s a letter that looks like a “5” kinda. A letter that, also, on its own means, “Is.” She told her parents (6 years ago that it was temporary. They bought it, and probably didn’t care that much since it was errrr GORGEOUS (and Armenian.) I could tell she was connected to it, too. It wasn’t just like YEAH some COOL thing to permanently don on her skin forever. It was warmer than that. I saw a small butterfly on a woman’s back at the register today. (I wasn’t crazy about that one. it seemed a little predictable. What could a butterly have to offer than any flower or happy face couldn’t?

I liked the I Love Pain lady. She was cool. And huh honest.


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