Sunday
May 13, 2012
Sundays were always a lazy day around the house. Dad would lay on the couch drinking beer, watching the stock car races and nodding off to sleep every now and with a single snore from his open mouth he would wake with a start. Mom busied herself in the kitchen. Doing what? I don't know. Just walking back and forth from the kitchen sink to the refrigerator, looking inside and never finding whatever it was she was looking for. Me and my brother would sit on the kitchen porch. Not talking just waiting, I guess, for Monday to roll around. We both dreaded school. And my sister? She moved up to our Aunt Ella and Uncle Ace's ranch in the high desert. I never knew exactly what she was up to. Come to think of it, I never quite understood what any of the women in my life where ever up to.
Still Life
There are those rare moments when time begins to slow down,
the air circulating in the apartment becomes thick, a bit
moist,
wet with an anticipation that something uncommonly wonderful
is about to happen.
Much like fruit, I sometimes feel. Just standing around
waiting
for the mouth of God to take a healthy bit out of me, hoping
that
He won’t take too long. Do it soon before my flesh begins to
rot,
before the muscles in my arms and legs turn to juice and my
leaves begin to shrink and curdle to a fine, fine mush.
Disappearing might be nice. Disintegration, POOF! Then blasted
across the empty universe on the natural breath God blew me
into
this world with. It should be like that, departing on the
same train
that brought you into this strangely wicked, but beautiful
mess.
Painters often paint still-lifes of fruit and coffee cups. There’s
something calming about it. Something wonderfully pleasing
about things that standstill long enough for someone to
appreciate
them. Bananas are lovely in the right light as are pomegranates,
lemons, limes, but pears... pears I think are best. I’m sure
Adam
and Eve would agree, pears are more tempting than
apples.rrw o5-12-12
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