I enjoy the newness
of people that I see
out in public.
Moreso, I enjoy
the newness of couples
who have only recently
discovered one another.

The other day
I spied a man going
into the convenient mart.

My wife was inside,
fetching soft drinks for a
lunch outing we had planned;
I was waiting in the car.

The man was listening to huge, white headphones.
He was wearing a ‘Boyz N’ the Hood’ sweatsuit.
It was purple, with bright yellow lettering.

He was struggling to don his leopard print mask
without losing his headphones.
It was an interesting scenario to watch
as it unfolded;
so, I watched.

The only things going through my mind,
were the man’s obvious commitment to whatever
song he was listening to,
and
His willingness to represent such a colorful
display to pay homage to an obviously
beloved film.

I guess I was staring.

“What the **** are you looking at, ******!?”

I didn’t say anything.

Instead, I took silent accountability for my
perceived disrespect.
I looked away.

Later,
that afternoon,
I began to brood over
the incident,
the perceived slight,
the actual slight I’d absorbed in return.

Did I deserve it?
Did he deserve a pass?
Does any of this matter?

I let it go.

Later
that night,
I ran into a new couple;
two of my friends,
whom had found,
discovered one another.

They were seated near me
at a music venue.

We chatted some, between songs.

While the band played,
I watched my two, separate friends
enjoy their outing and their transition
into
couplehood.

Lots of smiles;
she rubbed his thigh;
he played drums along with the band
on her shoulders.
She laughed.

I looked.
I looked some more.
I laughed too.

It was a nice thing to see,
to witness,
to watch develop.

No one said:
“What are you looking at, ******!?”
They barely noticed me at all.

That evening remains a nice thing to recollect
into the pages of this notebook.

(which I’m doing now)

Almost all the pages are written upon.
Soon, it will be time for a another
notebook.

It’ll be new.
I’ll flip through the pages,
feeling the newness,
hearing the creaking of the cover
as I open it
for the first time.

My current notebook,
is comfortable, broken in,
easy to write in.

Sometimes, I fold the cover over,
resting my elbow on the corner
while I write.

The spine was long-ago broken;
so
my notebook doesn't mind
bearing my body-weight
along with
the weight of the words
inside.

My thoughts,
now
are on the lunch
I’d enjoyed with my family
that afternoon.

We sat around the kitchen table.

We’d picked up some take-out;
decided to go home and watch a
movie after we ate.

The wife and I sat
on the couch.

She rubbed my thigh.
I draped my arm across
her shoulder.

We looked at one another,
instead of the television.

There was twenty years of history
that flashed between us in
what was likely 20 seconds.

Still new.
Still lovely.
Still worthwhile.
Still a discovery.

A thread in the tapestry
of
our life,
created on the loom
of our love
during a lazy
Saturday
In
November.

*

-JBClaywell
©P&ZPublications 2020