| September
8, 2002
blue
angels
While
grocery shopping, I ran into a woman I hadn't seen in many years.
We were in the produce section chatting, our shopping carts nuzzling, when
she abruptly offered me her phone number. I am polite, especially
when standing near passion fruit; So I held forth the scrap of paper that
was my grocery list. She wrote her number on it, expressed regret
over not having applied makeup, and asked where she could find the liquor
aisle. I closed my eyes and suggested she follow me, implying familiarity
that blindness cannot extinguish. She contorted her face and shrugged
the kind of shrug that told me she neither understood nor wanted to.
We parted at the liquor aisle, our carts gracefully diverging, like Blue
Angels. |