Remember, a blind man can
see things a sighted man can't. So let me tell you about her and then you can
tell me whether I'm right.
The first time a man meets
her, his eyes flicker and dart. Desire, an appropriate reaction.
The first time a woman
meets her, her eyes pop out and coil on her forehead. Envy, another appropriate
Today, who can blame
either? Today, who believes the canard about the true, the good, the beautiful,
in theory or in a woman? I never believed it till the day that I met her.
And you won't believe it
either unless you do what I did - frisk her for flaws that will allow you to
live as you are, as you were, as I was when I met her. As for me, I'm no longer
the same. Perhaps you can help me. My cane and my dog are no help in a matter
The day that I met her, I
was sitting on pillows propped against the wall of a building not far from
Walmart. I had my cane and my cup properly positioned on the sidewalk. I was
ready for business. And then I heard her heels type out on the pavement the
story of my life. I could hear in those heels a woman who knew me although we
had never met.
I had my baseball cap
upside down on the sidewalk between my outstretched legs. It was full of my
wares - pencils, spearmint gum and Tootsie Pops, free, for the children.
When her heels stopped in
front of my spot, I sensed this lady, whoever she was, had bent over my cap and
was checking my wares. Her hair was a waterfall licking at my knees. I was
inebriated by her scent.
She selected two pencils
and didn't ask the price so I knew I had a real customer. And then with a wave
of her hand she let paper money float through the air into my cup.
Believe me, a blind man
can see with his mind the butterfly of paper money float to his cup. Any
denomination, large or small, is a Monarch afloat on a zephyr.
Customers, you see,
usually drop change. A blind man can tell you what coins a customer has dropped
by the clink in his cup. So when I heard her Monarch take to the air, I forgot
about my teeth and smiled up at her.
I usually don't smile on
weekdays. I used to smile on weekends till that Hummer ran over my mother. She
lived for a while but she was never the same.
On Saturdays she
used to bring meals wrapped in tinfoil and labeled in Braille to tuck in my
freezer. She wanted me to know which meals were where but I was never able to
read her Braille so I ate whatever the microwave served.
This new lady in
heels, however, has dissolved my bereavement and taken me captive. She has me
smiling on weekdays. I've been stoned on her musk since the day that I met her
and I'm becoming ever more wobbly. Everywhere I go her scent surrounds me. I'm
an addict now and I need my cane and my dog just to get around the
So, please, tell
everyone now in the parade passing by to listen to her as I did. In time they
may hear, as I can hear now, a year later, the cherubim sing as she blooms with
our child like a sunflower in summer while I wonder, I try.