It’s that kind of dream day
Out the car window on the way home
This Is Just To Say
BY WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMSI have eaten
that were in
you were probably
they were delicious
and so cold
To be honest the other night I pretended I didn’t mind this man was a Trump supporter because he was so handsome and I couldn’t take my eyes off of his mostly craggy face. At 80 his arms did not look too bad either. Though I could not see them, I could see their outline through the crisp blue check of his shirt. It was all I could do to keep myself from reaching across the table and stroking them. “Will it bother you if I tell you I am a Trump supporter?” he asked, as we sat down at a local restaurant meeting for the first time at the suggestion of a friend.
I do not think I even heard his question as I was mesmerized by his arms and found them around me, holding me closely, gently kneading me like brioche dough, though I could still see them attached to his shoulders. I wasn’t tempted to walk away particularly not without those arms. That’s what shows me just how desperate I’ve become for male companionship.
It might also be that I drank a half glass of wine before walking down to the restaurant to calm my nerves. My nerves need a lot of calming these days. I am monitoring my wine intake. I must or I might just get to drinking first thing in the am before toothpaste. Once I saw my husband grab a half-finished Scotch from the night before’s party and swallow it right down. I always liked his style. For years I remembered that drink with deep admiration and knew I was not up to it.
Well, I am now. I like this Trump supporting man. I like his obvious masculinity, his low testosterone filled voice, and his arms. I think I will take him home and keep him. He could live happily in the freezer.
From time to time I could partially defrost him and have dinner with him quickly before his brain unthawed.
Last night my friends and I went to a very low-key restaurant in Stinson Beach to have an early supper. We were hoping to eat at outdoor tables but they were all filled so we went inside and eventually chose a table right next to a window we could open up. We opened both windows next to us because we are older and we are concerned about the virus and most people in the restaurant sat next to open windows. I was a bit concerned because the couple next to us had a very young child there with them who couldn’t possibly have been vaccinated.I guess some people are willing to take risks.
The most interesting thing to me that happened during the evening was a large group of men probably in their 30s arrived wearing biker clothes and sat quite close to us. They were not masked entering the restaurant and they seem to have no hesitancy in walking close to everyone else’s tables. They sat down and started ordering drinks and became louder and louder.
I never object to people having a good time because I think life is short and particularly now people need to get out and have fun. What I do object to is when that fun interferes with my fun.
At one point a man from the table got up and walked over to us standing too closely without a mask and asked if it was all right with us if he closed our window. We explained that we were keeping it open because we were worried about the virus. That should’ve been enough of an explanation to him.
He went back to the table and I could hear him explaining to his friends that we were worried about the virus and one of the young men yelled out to us two of us just tested positive today. And they all laughed.
What was rather hard to believe to my friends and me was that this group of young men were so disrespectful to us.
We were simply sitting there enjoying our dinner not interfering with them in anyway. They, on the other hand, interfered with our safety and attempted to force us to close the window and then made fun of us and frightened us with their statements.
They also frightened the family with the one child.
The group got louder and louder which made it almost impossible for the rest of the people that were nearby to have any kind of conversation and finally left.
My friends and I were talking about why there are quite a few people in this generation of 30 somethings that are disrespectful and unmannered? Did their parents allow them to be the boss in the household? Were they never taught respect for older people? Were they never taught respect for anyone?
This virus creates an interesting dynamic among our generations. I would say that throughout these past two years I have seen people my own age be very cautious and careful and respectful of others but the younger generation seems to feel that they’re invincible and they are not careful about themselves nor about others.
The tragedy to me is that many of them are now getting very sick and have been hospitalized. I think that many are vaccinated but their behavior puts others at risk. I’m wondering if this is something new or this disrespect has been present in other generations as well.
I’m certain that I behaved recklessly from time to time in my 20s but once I had children that behavior stopped so maybe it’s having children that teaches you respect and responsibility.
There was something else present in this group of young men. It was a kind of rage. There was a super feeling of anger towards us because we were daring to make them uncomfortable. Even though all the other people in the restaurant preferred having the windows open they wanted them closed.
It’s a known fact that anger and rage are based on fear so that takes me to the place of why are they fearful? I guess the answer to that is obvious. Our generation has failed to protect them from having to live on a planet where we have viruses, climate change, pollution, and dramatic weather incidents, and whether or not they think about this in a logical progression it must occur to them this world isn’t safe.
They are correct.
Flash 2 My House
I live alone people think but in fact my house has so many inhabitants I have to be careful when moving through it. There are many men lurking about in my closets and bedroom all of whom seem angry and hungry. The kitchen contains some young ones with damp, slightly curled hair who cook gravy. I happen to hate gravy unless it’s on turkey which is tasteless without it. So many things are. I walk slowly through the detritus of my life so as not to stumble over hillocks of bodies and chirping young friends who think I am hopeful so I am. To them. I need young friends. The doors are unlocked and the flowers wander in and out flagrantly fragrancing the hours and the hallways making memories melt into the cracks and settlings of bones and earthquake reinforcement. People ask don’t I want an elevator but why would I when I can wander in an elevated state up and down and sideways into the dining room where the chairs are always filled with brilliance and I can sit with the thoughts of so many nights, so much laughter, the best wine, and no gravy.