IV. Why Old Men Look At Younger Women
the 45th President of the United States
likes to "grab-pussies"-by-force.
His words, not mine.
What must a person be 'cut off from' to try to seek connection that way?
I guess when you feel
your life slipping away
and you're finally realizing you weren't truly present for most of it,
and your "worth" on paper
isn't worth a pile of manure
at the gateway of your own.....slow......mind-drifting death,
the luscious vitality of a blossoming maiden
with her dimples
and stories about the day
must really feel like a last straw
at having a semblance of a chance
at ever having felt truly alive.
The only thing worse than speaking like this
is blatantly undressing her in public
with your eyes.
V. The Key
The manna of life is found in the giving, not the taking.
VI. I've Only Known One Truly Ecstatic Couple...and They Weren't Married
He was handsome. Scottish.
She was beautiful. Dark Irish.
He would say, "Yes, dear", with his right hand over his heart.
She would say, "What can I do for you, honey?"
He would say, "I like the black dress because it matches your eyes and hair."
She would say, "Play that song for me again, dear. It makes me 'see' things."
He would serve her breakfast in bed.
His only question: "Coffee, Lyons, Earl Grey, or Oolong?"
She would blush and reply, "You know I always want it ooooo-long."
She would massage his injured shoulder from football
as if it were her last act on earth;
then, they would "do each other's feet"...simultaneously.
She was really into gardening.
He learned everything he could about plants
because he was addicted
to the delight in her eyes
when she had harvested a basket
of color, life-force, sweetness, succulence.
She became self-conscious about her hips in her 30s,
and her ass in her 40s.
He would make her and her girlfriends laugh
when he'd cook dinner in his kilt and refer to himself with:
"Built for comfort, not for speed, honey"...
or her with: "More lovely cushion for the pushin', baby".
He channeled the music of the spheres;
his guitar could morph into the pipes or even a sitar.
Her voice was a majestic accompaniment -- complete with flute, whistle and drum.
One day, I asked them their secret.
They smiled and looked each other in the eye
as if, indeed, they shared an ancient story between them.
"Only when you've learned to find peace in your soul alone
can you sustain it with another who has learned how to do the same."