THE LOVERS by René Magritte
I'm
reading John Steinbeck's THE LOG FROM THE SEA OF CORTEZ again.
It
finally dawned on me that the word log in the title does not refer to
a tree.
*
Steinbeck
mentioned the port of Loreto.
It
made me remember a girl I had met.
Her
name was Loretta.
Mine
would become shame.
*
I
was working at the time as an assistant in the produce department at
Safeway. I don't know if I was really called an assistant, but I
wasn't the manager, so I guess it is accurate to say that I assisted
the manager.
(I'll
return to Loretta in a moment, but I want to mention a date I had
with one of the bakery ladies.)
*
I
forget her name, but she was older than me by at least a dozen years.
I
was seventeen.
The
same age when I encountered Loretta.
*
I
took the bakery lady to Red Rocks to hear the London Symphony
Orchestra.
I
remember when the orchestra played Shubert's Unfinished Symphony.
I
still remember how it did sound quite unfinished.
It
was an apt title.
*
My
date with the bakery lady ended by having a meal at the shiny,
silver, Airstream-shaped hot dog restaurant not far from Red Rocks on
West Colfax.
Our
date was quite uneventful.
Neither
I nor she made any moves.
Regretfully.
*
Loretta
was a sexy Latina before I had ever heard the word Latina.
I
didn't think of her as anything but sexy.
Full
lips.
Beautiful
eyes.
Long,
dark brown hair.
A
body that was out of this world.
It
was during this first encounter in the produce department that we set
a date to go out.
She
was wearing bright yellow clothes.
She
glowed brighter than her clothes.
It
was a quest of lust, not love.
At
least it was for me.
*
I
was excited.
I
guess not excited enough, however, because I forgot to pick her up at
the scheduled time.
I
called her.
She
immediately said, “Nobody stands me up!”
Then
there was a deafening loud click.
I
never saw Loretta again, but I dreamed about her.
IT'S
ABOUT RENEWABLE RESOURCES AND DATES
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