They call me Mr. Keach.
I am supposed to meet TK for lunch. The parking lot outside the strip mall is empty. I am looking for her inside the mauve restaurant and she has her back to me with a purple tank top on. We hug and chat a bit - I ask how OK was and she says it was fabulous - that she has a surprise - she got married to an old family friend. I wink because I know who it is. We walk out to the parking lot where my mother is waiting and I tell her the news. My mother says "To Stacey Keach?" and we laugh and TK says "yes, but we don't call him Stacey in our house - it's Mr. Keach."
posted by The Dancing Kids @ 1:19 PM
1 Comments:
At 5:15 PM,
Anonymous said…
I'm running through trees. Trees and trees, but they read well. I know what the trees mean; I'm the one running through them, so I should know. Nice cedars and poplars, all sorts. Many catch my fancy, and I alter my course. I see a sign for... A lake! I'd really like to see the lake! I head to where the arrow points. I'm running and running and looking for the sand... I'm in the water. No sand. Nor shallow water. I'm in over my head. Am I cramping up? Why can't I swim? I don't understand the water. Not like the trees. Is it salty, or fresh; are there fishies or tides, boats, maybe swimmies? I can't figure the water. I can't swim in this lake. So it's hard to appreciate it; I don't know if it's cool and fresh, if the rocks beneath are slimy.
I think the lake is designed this way-- to plunge me in the middle and make me swim my way out. But I'm too deep too fast too ungrammatical.
If there were some sand, or some shallow water, or another, more descriptive sign, I'd swim a little better. At least tread water. Where are those swimmies?
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