Sunday, February 8, 2009

A Rose a Rose a Rose a Rose

My mom called me foggy when I was a child. For a long while I thought she was describing my strange bouts of sadness even then like the morning fog that captured the trees over the river. She was adoringly comparing me to a foghorn. The neighbors would pass our house on foot and I would be peeking through the front screen. Hi. I'd say with an obvious darling baby drawl. "Hi. Hi Kathy. Hi."

When I am gestating/on existential hold, I take fabulously long walks. My hips disappear, my shoulders rise up like sails. I venture the entire city, scale dozens of hills. This time, I am trying to make eye contact, let alone say, "Hi!," with neighbors. Of the hundreds, I have locked a rare stare. I suppose it is most important to focus ahead when traveling in the city. 

We've rationed out our souls differently this century. The light is a tunnel. I long for something like a rose, a plump ruby red rose cliche. I suppose when our eyes do meet, I'll know.

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At February 19, 2009 at 4:37 PM , Blogger amo said...

HI HI HI, foggy.
what a hilarious nickname that was.
your mother sounds whack.
i had a city stroll i wanted to share with you!
seems you're not the only one moving through the world wondering where have all the cowboys gone. lol.
i went to trader joes to grab one of those sub-par brown rice sushi packets for lunch. i then darted out and sat myself somewhere between the grocer and the bed bath & beyond- right in front of a coffee stand that also sells surprisingly large hot dogs. anyways, so i'm struggling with my sushi container (sans chopsticks)- trying to get that packaged wasabi and pakaged soy sauce mixed with my packaged funky off-pink ginger. and i need a napkin.
i walked up to the coffee counter and there's a whole big pile of the really cheapo, superthin & tiny paper napkins just out of reach, behind a glass window next to the female cashier. i asked her for a napkin- nicely of course- and she shook her head NO. i thought that was funny and asked again & continued to stand there baffled when damned if she didn't reach out and close the window on me. i went and dejectedly sat down to my nasty sushi combo and felt all bad about the city and the reluctance to share- everything from niceties to paper napkins. but then- lucky for me- a kindly borderline-homeless man approached and handed me his napkin. i guess he'd overheard the exchange and finished his lunch and didn't need it anymore. man, did i love that man. and so goes another romantic city lunch. love you! -am

At February 20, 2009 at 4:32 PM , Blogger Elisabeth said...

a balancing act? that reminds me of the time the woman wouldn't let me ride the subway because my card was bent and I had no money. well told.


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