Friday, August 28, 2015
You were there? I was there too. Where were you? Around the corner, where we sat before. Oh, I was in line. How odd that we were there at the same time but didn't see each other. Exactly where were you? Where the benches are around the corner from the line for food. I'm not seeing it in my head. Anyway, what did you have to eat? The scallop taco. Me too. It's the best. Yeah, it's so good. Later, I tell a third party. Guess who was there while we were there? Really? Yes, she was there while we were there and we didn't see each other. Where? Where we were before with her. Where we were when we were there together sitting on a bench around the corner. We were never where we were together with her. That was another place, third party days. That's where she was, not us. You're right. I see it now. We were at one place and she was at another. Never were we with her together where we were.
On a Sunday this past summer while relaxing at a city lake I saw many things, including sunglasses visor dog blanket shorts backpack pen paper bird boat bike sun clouds parent child teen baby new old fit fat reader eater drinker athlete hat cap tank tee white beige brown and finally black.
I looked online at a picture of James Foley on his knees. A man behind him, dressed in black and face covered, held his head and a knife against his throat. The photo looks fake. It could not really be real. That is my reaction to such moments. When I was a girl my parents took my sister and me to see the folies in Las Vegas. Women walked across a stage wearing sequins, feathers, little else. I saw bare breasts for the first time. (No, I had never seen my mother's.) Are those real, I asked. Yes, my mother said. I wished they weren't.