I feel like I’ve accidentally stepped in someone else’s religion here. Like there’s a small community somewhere in Austin that worships unicorns, and I wasn’t invited. I’m hurt, guys. Where’s the love?
Okay, yes, “the language of flowers” is a tongue heavy with multiple meanings, sometimes mutually contradictory ones. Like the way a peony can simultaneously mean “happiness in marriage” and “good luck on your gall bladder surgery.” Just the yellow ones, the pink ones generally mean “cheap but affectionate.”
But pretty much in every lexicon of blooms, a red rose–yes, it technically means love, but isn’t it more of a “do me now” sort of love? Not so much with the mutual affection or warm feelings, but a more straightforward, single entendre sort of statement? And not one that I’m really comfortable with from the lips of an equine.
He has a great face, though. “Hey, baby, have you ever been…blessed by love? We’re talking love 80’s style, Panini sticker album style lovin’ with air-brushed dolphins and sweet, sweet rainbows behind clouds loving. Oh yes, baby, we’re talking sparkle vinyl puffy scratch-and-sniff loving, you know it. Come with me on my magical space bridge, and we’ll aaaaaaalll be blessed.”
Although if he sounds as much like Barry White as he does in my head, I might be able to overlook the hooves. I mean, he brought flowers.
Salvation Army near Metric and Peyton Gin, Austin