Koenigsegg One

She left the house at 7am like a Koenigsegg One, Swedish born super car, racing to get to the next pit stop. Her power to speed ratio was enabling her to reach speeds only dreamed of for her breed, and her hustle landed her second in line for the 7:50 ferry to San Francisco. The bikes line up like race cars on a track laid out before the common pedestrian, so riders are forced to stare towards the boat and the cue of bikes awaiting the call to board. She removed her helmet to let golden waves flow down over silky black blouse. She removed her bike shoes, then her socks, and slipped intentionally into her favorite high-heeled wedge sandals. She unbuttoned and removed her blouse. 

The morning sun glistened  on the water in the distance, a soft warm, orange lemon glow beamed towards her and lit her body up with the creamy warmth of a Florida beach in Spring, coconuts on the sand, birds soaring, perfect seashells scattered everywhere. In her black spaghetti strapped tank top, she resembled a beautiful dark bird, now reaching arms up to dry her wings in the sun, she stretched right and left, hips flowing to music from headphones she had in her left ear. She knew they were watching her. 

She was second in line, behind a sheepish and mousy girl wearing military green pants and drab earth tones. Although first in line, she was too shy to be there and had a look about her as if apologizing and submissive, almost as if to say, "Sorry, I don't belong here". But Koenigsegg, she knew what she was after- Fast money, or just enough money to get her back into the city to haunt a man she dripped oil for, she had never desired his companionship more than now, and her entire body gleamed and wiggled with the excitement of new love. She was ready for him, and she made them look, as their hearts jumped. 

A fallen angel against the golden water, black and dark as sin, yet gold as Tutemkanenn unearthed and polished. But beyond her strength, speed and beauty, what she felt at this moment was the realization that she could see everything: the glitter on the water before her, the letter V shape that trailed the duck on water, the way the sky opened up with wispy, lacy clouds like a petticoat over soft flesh. She saw everything at once, as if it was all new and all of it needed to be shared with the world, immediately.

Part of a Creative Writing Project: Letters to Geographer 2015-2016