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contours provocations
journal - 2003-0311 - tue 2000 What Can I Do!; Spring; Things Green; Darting Looks Another week of fighting a variety of upper respiratory infections. Two visits to the clinic. Two visits to the pharmacy. Several hundred dollars later. Usually I manage not to be too depressed about the whole business, but this time I've found the process to be downright irrating. And what can I do! What on earth do people do who do not have insurance? Even with insurance, it's expensive. My insurance sez it's loosing money, so now they want to hike the deductible. To a $1,000! Holy Shit! Spring has sprung, or so it appears. The pinkish-purple blossoms of the Japanese Magnolia are out in force. And the pear trees are covered in white snowpuff-like flowers. And the redbuds are full of tiny bitter red blooms. Somehow, I find this biological exuberance slightly disturbing. It's overpowering and fickle. Something in my psyche craves rain and mist and the linear beauty of stark dark branches. A beauty not dependent on ornamentation but one that relies on form alone. Plus I keep thinking of the wafting pollen that coats everything with its powdery swirling dust. Pollen that invades the body and chokes the senses. On the way to work today, I was behind a truck carrying what I thought was two tall greenish glass pedestals. But when we stopped at a traffic light, I noticed it was a pair of thick, curved windows for some type of vehicle. The glass appeared to be at least a quarter inch thick and an emerald color. But what vehicle would need such exotic-looking windows? For a second, I wondered if they were bullet-proof. In mid-afternoon I walked across to another building for a coke. And returned via a landscaped courtyard of dwarf bushes, creeping vines and mid-size hackberry trees. (Or at least I think they're in the hackbery family.) As I turned the corner, I saw a bright yellow green grasshopper. It was poised next to the slick granite edging stones as though it hoped I would ignore it. Around the next corner, a chameleon flicked across the path and into the groundcover. I'm always amazed at these tiny creatures with whom we share the world. I wanted to sit on the pavement and let the chameleon climb up my arm. And look into those wee rotating eyes. And somehow be assured that he would know my attention to be honorable. Yesterday, at lunch I was darting looks at someone who'd attacked my imagination. And I realized I knew him in a round about way. I remember him as a supermarket clerk from several years ago. At the time, I could not help but note his striking features. Pale skin that would never take a tan. Long black sideburns. And a body language that was brisk and full of angles. He said he had a pair of boots like mine. And I'm sure I mumbled something incoherent. And he seemed unaware of his own attractiveness. Then at another point I recall seeing him with two other people in a clinic with his left leg in a cast. About a year ago, he was a server at a restaurant. We chatted very briefly, and I mentioned the boots, but I knew he had no idea who I was. Yesterday, he waited in line for several minutes. I could see he was wearing brownish black slacks with long chevron-shaped flaps on the back pockets. And a pair of black chunky sandals. A gray jogging jacket partially zipped. Underneath was a clingy white tee. As he stood at the counter, I again noticed that odd angular body language. When he moved away, for the first time, I noticed a limp. He returned in a few minutes and offered the clerk a credit card from his wallet. Then left again. And returned again to pick up his to-go order. It was another one of those cases when I wished I could become invisible and follow someone. Out of curiosity to see what he does. To see where he lives. And what his life is like. To discover who he is. But I'll have to be content with wondering. I need to remind Harry and Ron that I'd like the cloak back. PAX!
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