Alone again, naturally.

Alone again, naturally.
Minivans. They always seem to be in minivans around my way. They go home to undeserving husbands who beat them for no reason and call them “my bitch”, “boo”, or “shortie”. Is it the minivan? Is that why they stay? How did they get there in the first place? Someone bought them a minivan or a car. There is this one on the bus. I see her every day, as long as I leave my house at exactly 9:00 am. In the summer she is a vision of all that is right in the world. She dresses superbly in not-too-short skirts and pretty tops. I always wish that I could be her left leg so that I could feel what it was like to be wrapped around her right leg when she crossed us. One day she was talking loudly on the cell phone and she began to cry. She hung up and I actually felt her sorrow. At the very least I felt the sorrow of not being able to help her alleviate her pain. On that particular bus trip I wished that I was a tear so that I could slowly crawl down her cheek, warming it as I went along. I was at the Laundromat today. I saw her drive by in a minivan. My heart hurt. I wondered if I was a stalker or creep. How does that sort of thing come to be? Thousands of men around the world, better for the women but without a chance. Shallow-ness refuses to let some of them see past a beer gut. My beer-gut, a product of one too many of them. One too many girls in minivans. Going home to undeserving men who beat them and ignore them when they say “I am not in the mood tonight”. My clothes took a total of two hours to finish. I stood and stared at the dryer, thinking and watching the spinning socks. I wished, for a moment, that I was one of her socks so that I could keep her feet warm when they were cold. My phone rang, a man from a holistic health magazine in Brooklyn. He had read my curriculum vitae, resume and writing samples. He wanted to know if I would write a piece or two a week for his paper. He would pay me $150.00 per article. I asked him if that’s what it took. “If that’s what, what took?” he said. “Is that what it would take to get the girls in the minivans?” I asked. He said nothing for a long while, and then the line went blank. The job went to someone else. The socks kept spinning in the dryer. The girls kept driving by in the minivans and SUV’s. I folded the laundry when it was done and walked home. I put the clothes where they belonged, on the floor, and sat at my computer. I looked around for a few minutes. I began to type; Minivans. They always seem to be in minivans around my way…….