Nurture your Nature

They make a cute couple

Two men jog north past our umbrellas, shorts hugging hips, chests sweating.

"They make a cute couple."

She says this under the umbrella, confident in her green top, avoiding the sprinkles of a threatening day. Ashtrays and cigarette butts are our companions. I sip from my coffee cup and try not to devour the lemon bundt cake. She chatters with a guy, nondescript and fully clothed, not glistening like raindrops, his hair like ... honey.

An artist sits down with me, waiting for her order. We converse about Frida Kahlo and her self absorbtion. She sketches self-portraits too. All of 22, with her mousy hair and drawing pad tucked away from the rain.

I talk to her about Sharon, who wrote a 45 minute monologue about Frida. how I witnessed her give a talk about Frida, pick up a clove cigarette and with one puff become her ...

I tell her I write poetry to art, show her a miniature of one of Georgia O'Keeffe's paintings. Ask her if she can see anything; she doesn't at first. But when I tell her I see a mask, she sees it too. We see what we see it seems.

The two men return jogging south ... and yes, I notice. The pumping legs and firm thighs are off to somewhere without me, oblivious of my presence.

On the bus ride home everything glistens after a rain. Mimosa folds its leaflets together as if in prayer.

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