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contours provocations
journal - 2001-0713 - fri 2100 I See Headlights; I Wonder If The Woman Was Real; I Lust After An "Undergear" Cover Man; I Observe At The Laundry When I woke up this morning, I could hear rain plopping on the window air conditioning units. Plop, splash, plop! But by the time I wandered outside, the rain had stopped even though the skies were covered in dark clouds. From the frontage road, I could see a long line of cars and trucks headed south on the Interstate. The headlights were pink, pale yellow and blue-white and bobbed in the undulating course southward. I enjoy looking for anything unusual when I drive. And it's always a kick when I encounter something. Last Saturday, as I headed for dinner with friends, I stopped at a traffic light and noticed a woman getting off a bus. My first thought was that she was Indian, but I now realize she was most likely from the MIddle East. She was wearing a silk native costume that seemed draped around her and a shawl-like scarf covering her head and shoulders. Both were the color of mimosa blossoms and billowed in the breeze. She was such an exotic sight that I almost wondered if she was real or etheral. At lunch today, I headed for the usual place. As I entered the door, the server with the floppy hair popped up and said there was immediate seating in the bar. I'd already glanced around and noticed that everything seemed taken, so I followed him. As usual, he did his great job of serving. And as usual, I did my great job of ogling. Speaking of ogling. If you did not receive your own personal copy of "Undergear - Best of Summer 2001" in the mail, then RUN out and grab one. It has a man on the cover who is beyond delectible. Wearing nothing but a tiny pouch thong. This guy exudes masculinity. When I opened the mail box, there he was. I wanted to lie on the post office floor and ogle. I'm going to write a letter to Santa, right now before the rush season starts, and beg and plead for this man in my Christmas stocking. Did I say ogle? Let me change that to sheer, unrepentant lust. Screw having to wait to Christmas. I want immediate gratification. As two weeks ago, I went to the laundry after work. A boy held the door open for me as I fumbled with two hampers. In a minute or so, I figured out he was there with his father, who was tall and rangy and wearing a streaked dark blue khaki uniform: the kind that technicians and repairers wear. The father looked like he'd had a long day and was tired. But what struck me was the affection he and his son had for each other. There was no hint of adolescent distancing on the part of the boy. There were several times they appeared to share a joke. And the father reached out once and gently ruffled the kid's hair. It was so endearing that I felt like I was visually eavesdropping. PAX!
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