clinging to the wreckage

I’d cycled to the nearby square to buy wine and a few groceries. It was a stifling hot June day in Cambridge, Massachusetts, and all the young people were out protesting the recent killing of George Floyd by a police officer in Minneapolis. Cars passed through the protest, hooting in appreciation, and probably terrified of having their cars damaged if they acted any other way. When I emerged from the liquor store there was a commotion in the street. I’d been expecting it. Someone had walked through the protestors shouting and screaming at them. Of course, there was retaliation, and everyone was angry… as people so often seem to be. I took a longer route back to my bicycle and cycled towards my apartment. Arriving at the small reservation pond across from my building, I stopped to see the Canadian Geese and their Goslings as they gathered around the area between the pond and the bike path. After a few minutes I made my way back onto the path and started to cross next...

She told me that I need to pray to God. Actually, it was more directly ‘you need pray God’ in her strong Korean accent. I asked her why it was that she felt I needed to pray to God. I couldn’t help but laugh as I asked. ‘To find a good woman.’ I told her that ‘I don’t want a good one, I want a bad one.’ It was a conversation held in my kitchen. She was already wearing her coat and was about to leave when she began to ask me if there was anyone in my life. She had arrived just three hours earlier. When she stepped out of the taxi, I was somewhat shocked by her appearance. She was wearing black lace stockings that came up to the middle of her thighs and a red dress that was barely long enough to cover her underwear, which was open enough at the top to make it abundantly clear that she was not wearing a bra. I’d wondered why the taxi driver had made the effort of walking around the car and opening the door for her, but now it was clear. He stared at me with a look that seemed to say, ...