Sunday, May 22, 2011

Last Day

I was dizzy tired when I got home from work on the much talked about last day ever, but the light was gold and the air was late spring. I grabbed my camera, hoping to take a picture of something end-of-the-worldish at the beach.

Everything was looking the same until the coast, which was heavily populated by drunk guys. The tip off to not normal was a man on what easily might have been his last day, swerving his bike into oncoming traffic while his friends cheered him on.

I was distracted from the life-or-death slalom by a lewd suggestion coming from the direction of a nearby porch. Really, that’s original. Why is everyone so wasted, and where are the women?

Forget the beach – I stopped by the corner market for cold water on the way home. A man who was not the epitome of mental health paced in a tight circle behind me at the register. The cashier and I stared. The pacing man left for a few moments then returned to his mini track. He claimed to be “just passing through” before telling a long story about his stolen sunglasses.

OK, bye. As I looked up the *pathway* to home, I saw another group of unsteady males hanging out by the sidewalk about a block down.  What now? More lewdness and a creepy I-love-you. You know, when you think of it, Last Day is a bit livelier than Memorial Day. I'm sure May has room for one more holiday.


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