He has what I like to call remnants of style. Like he’s been wearing his clothes or clothes like it pretty much since they were actually in style. And you know as the years went on and tastes changed his wardrobe stayed the same and maybe cause he wore it so well at the time he was able to maintain a certain air of uniqueness before he just started to look awkward and dated. By that time though he’d already lost the gusto for life that got him into the clothes in the first place. He stuck with it not because he didn’t care but because it was practical. Until of course the cyclical nature of fashion brought it back in so that now he doesn’t look nearly as out of touch as he is.
There are two kittens in a box on my back porch. First I laugh. Then I think hidden camera show but I’ve trained myself over the years not to look around for a hidden camera when I have that thought. People always look their best, or the most themselves anyway, when they don’t know they are being recorded. It couldn’t be TV anyways because the kittens are too scraggly. And wouldn’t the front porch make more sense? Don’t people usually leave kittens out on their own porch anyway? Or underneath it? I mean for people who like cats there’s no such thing as too many right? Well that is the impression that I get. Maybe the mama cat just hit the limit. Maybe she had a grotesque litter of twelve or thirteen and now the little guys have grown bigger and their chirpy little meows are too much to handle so the owner just went around dropping off cats in shoeboxes on random back porches. Or maybe the owner chose specific people whom he deemed worthy of the cats. I wonder who else in the park got a meowing telegram this morning. I wonder what kind of shoe box they got. Mine is L. A. Gear. I wonder if anyone else knows that I am one of the recipients. I wonder if the person who dropped them off knows me. Knows that I’m allergic to cats. Knows that I went to the hospital for it when I was kid. Knows that my throat swelled shut.
What will we do when all the handsome young actors who play the vampires we love to seduce us get old? Will we still believe in their immortal kiss? Will our children think us nostalgic?
I asked her to pass the banana butter and she said “I don’t know.” What do you mean you don’t know? I’m not asking you to know anything I’m asking you to do something. Just pass the banana butter so I can smear my tortilla. And while you are at it please deliver me from evil and lead us not into temptation because I’m sick of reruns.