My David

His long stringy hair fell to his shoulders. The ends created little waves that reminded me of the torrent falls of Kaieteur. He had an interested look on his face, focused on the professor’s point of view on male female interactions and society’s view. He looked like a David, except for the turquoise gem that created a little sparkle on the center or his right nostril; this of course didn’t seem like an action of a man of 1504. I imagined him as a laid back, open-minded person, whose hunger for knowledge and spiritual connections couldn’t be satiated. His eyes were big and active with curiosity. He wore beads that hung like little colorful waves under his white t-shirt, and I imagined my tongue swimming through the still ripples. “So, what’s the purpose of society’s opinion in a world where individuality is praised,” he asked. His lips seemed like they were chanting a prayer the way they moved with such veracity. Moments like these are when I wished I paid attention to what the professor spoke about, because then I could respond to his question. We’d be dancing, making love with our words and our minds in front of everyone. But then again, I’ve never been and exhibitionist.