calliope

           Calliope leaned close to Sonya and whispered, "Come on. Let's go somewhere."
           The hospital room had become a boy's clubhouse. Reefer talk, newspaper talk, and a garden-variety guy talk loaded with the storm-seeds of a pissing contest.
            Silently, like ninjas they departed: sleek winds blowing down the corridor.
            Two counter-culture chicks bonding with every step.
            In the shade of an elm there was a pushcart falafel vendor on the sidewalk corner.
             Aromas were over-powering.
             The women smiled and walked up to the man with a red bandana tied around his head.
            "Doud, how's it going?" Calliope asked.
            "Very fine! Give me a hug!"
            They hugged, and he squeezed her ass. Old friends.
             Sonya grinned, thinking, This is a very sexy man!
             "Doud, this is Sonya."
             "M'lady--"
             She shook his offered hand, discovering a delicate, almost mincing grip.  Wow! This is so cool!
              "We need two falafel supreme, and two sides of feta and black olive salad," Calliope said.
              "Coming right up!"
              Sonya had never eaten falafel, and was relieved to see it served on pita bread. Like a gyro.
              They took the food over to a bench on the grass.
              A little park bordered a pond with Canadian geese.
              "My new friend!" Sonya gushed. "Calliope!"