The White Thighs There
What possible purpose can there be in a life where you can’t have everything you want—where everything you want is all around you and you can’t have it? What’s the point?
Yesterday there was something I wanted and it was right next to me. It had white thighs that were pounding away on a mechanical jogging machine.
I could have turned and pointed and said, “I want this. May I have it?”
But I didn’t. My mind was flooded with disturbing thoughts. I had my position to think of. Suppose I had received what I wanted? Where would I be? In complicated circumstances that could only get more complicated. Eventually I would have brought shame upon myself. It’s possible my family, if I had one, would have had to pack up and leave town.
And then suppose I had asked and not gotten what I wanted. Suppose I had been told, “No, you may not” or, worse yet, something ambiguous like “Pardon me?” or “You’ll have to be more specific.” There would have been the flush of embarrassment, the hapless struggle to regain my equilibrium and maintain dignity.
It is far better that I sat in the chair letting bone, lard and gristle roll between the cloth straps of a mechanical massaging machine. And I though long and hard about a life where you can’t have everything you want with the white thighs pounding behind me.
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Submission Name: The White Thighs There
