Hey Silver Fox,
Should we have been less coy? I saw you walking toward me through the grass at Rooster Rock, and I didn’t know what to do. Sweaty from a run, my shirt was pulled up, catching sunshine on my skin, and I’d just been writing a few friends about the language on some signage: “human male genitals in a discernibly turgid state.” I mean, thank you for this use of “turgid” Oregon State Parks—well-played flaunting of that English degree. Needless to say, the sweat, partial undress, and turgidity sent me walking to my car. You followed. I looked back. Eye contact. Smiles. Hellos. Then I coyly looked away, uncertain what to do, and you drove off. I half thought I might see your silver Acura return, but I suppose it was meant to only be a moment. Or you’ll find me on Tinder... I’m older than I look.
Momentarily yours,
Androgynous Trail Runner