Bruce Harris
Dating
In sleep he looks like any other child.
Neither mother or father have recovered from the day’s litany of dates…birthdays…this actor, that actress, this singer, that ballplayer, this relative, that friend, this teacher, that model, this reality star, that newscaster, this comedian, that author, this astronaut, that co-worker, this neighbor, that politician, the old man with wrinkled hands at the sub shop….anniversaries…three years ago we were at, five years ago we visited with, six months to the day we ate near, tomorrow will be two years since we saw…
The bed is wet.
His toothbrush remains dry.
Moe’s Kosher Delicatessen
Using Moe’s century old slicing knife and wooden cutting board, the heavily tattooed Banan, dressed in black with black fingernail polish and black earrings but with shiny white lipstick and three streaks of white in her hair slices the lox, paper-thin, like Moe, like foreskin. Five fingers and five rings dripping spices release a handful of pickles. Don’t forget the halvah either plain (vanilla, it’s sometimes called) or marble or chocolate covered and hot coffee or tea with creamer and a couple of sugar cubes. A few mints for the road and a toothpick and a sandwich to go for late night while blaring the Ramones.
Making Small Talk
“Lumps of wet grass were jamming up the works.”
“Huh?”
“The blades were barely moving. I could have sworn I had pulled the throttle all the way down, you know. Guess not, the second I stuck my hand underneath the mower and freed up that first grass clump, the blades whirled and my fingers were sprayed all over the yard. I noticed you staring at my stump hand.”
“No. I mean, I wasn’t…”
“Funny thing, it didn’t really hurt. I finished mowing the lawn. Only a small strip remained near the side of the house next to the broken air conditioning unit where all the weeds grow.
“I’m sorry, I…”
“Hand’s nothing. I’m a gelding, too. Now, that one hurt, let me tell you.”
“Will you excuse me, please?”