Tuesday, March 8, 2016


I'm still not sure if I hallucinated my first hummingbird sighting of the season this morning. On the front porch, through the bedroom window. But it was enough to make me run to the grocery store before work to pick up an extra hummingbird feeder for my neighbor.

While I was standing over the conveyor belt I noticed the woman behind me in line didn't have any groceries. Then I noticed she was staring at me. Eyes wildly wide, direct eye contact, a huge grin, not showing her teeth. I smiled back at her, visibly confused. Was something wrong with me, had something spilled all over me, I looked down my front, nothing. Smiling with her again and finally she said, "I don't speak English." Her expression went on unchanged, I couldn't help myself and laughed, showed my teeth, kept holding contact. Something reassuringly catatonic, a happy statue. It was unyielding and penetrative and it went on for the length of my entire transaction. Between small gestures with the cashier I kept looking toward her again for the consolation, her face still sitting in the wide grin, her eyes right inside mine.

I looked behind me before walking through the automatic doors, her face finally turned toward the cashier, she wasn't smiling.

I'm wearing an old christening gown for a baby, as a top. A little baby was wrapped up in this. Decades ago. 

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

unsolicited, but I want to read a book of your making, a zine, my smile is sticking to this page, like hers. I can see it, I can see it all!