The Book and The Cover

I watched her from across the street; sitting with my coffee in an open air cafe. She could be anyone, single or married, a business owner or stay at home mother. Certainly,I knew better than anyone not to judge appearances, just ask my Mother and she’ll tell you.

Then it crossed my mind, what would a man think, seeing a woman talking on the phone and striding confidently down the street? Would he even notice the strength of her step or would he think only of her legs, the shape and feel of them? Would he see her posture, reform school perfect, or does his eyes drift only as high as her buttocks and hips, swaying as she walks? Would he notice how her top was perfectly coordinated with her skirt and jacket, or would he see only her breasts, held within folds of white silk?

I shook my head. For most, the cover is more important than the book and sex conquers all. Yet, they miss the sexiest part of a woman, located right behind her eyes. They cannot understand the fieriness of her love or the strength of her loyalty.

In their fantasies, they will overlook her intelligence, ignore her voice, and take the beauty of a multidimensional being and reduce it to a one sided parody of a reality they can never fully understand.

The Rule

This world so often leaves me feeling as if I am a child. So naive and lacking in understanding. Do as your told, not as we do. Be silent, listen, and learn. Not to yourself; not to your heart, but to those outside yourself. Those who know you better than you can ever know yourself. A world which insists on conformity while preaching individuality. Which seeks to reduce us to our most base common denominators, ignoring the very uniqueness it claims to embrace.

From our earliest memories, from even before really, we are bombarded by the hopes, dreams, and expectations of those closest to us. We are adorned in pink or blue before we have drawn our first breath. Not just in the colors themselves but all they represent in our culture today. Who we will be as children, adolescents, young adults. As responsible citizens of a place we may not want or understand. 

We are given examples of behavior, of mannerisms, of dress, actions, and interests which are acceptable for us. On television, in the movies, in books, magazines, billboards, and packaging of every kind. This for boys, that for girls and God help the ones who wish to walk a different path. Oh,there are some exceptions, minor little blips which can be over looked; if eventually your willing to fall into line. Just be sure to stay within the lines even as you seek to rebel.

Even with all of this, people still cling to the illusion of open mindedness, understanding, and acceptance even while they perpetuate the very prejudice they claim to abhor. 

“For the rule applies to everyone but me.”

There are times I wonder who is truly naive, me for thinking the world can be changed or them for thinking it already has?

A Prince In the House (Short Story)

She rose up in the morning to find he had already left. No surprise really, he was always skulking away here or there, always looking for a companion to satisfy his wanton desires.

She slipped into jeans and shirt, forgoing socks so as to feel the cool floor beneath her feet. She took her time but did not dawdle, it was one thing to make one wait, it was another to think there would never be retribution.

Coming into the kitchen she found him, as he so often was, waiting with seemingly endless patience until one noticed the look in his eye as he sat there all prim and proper. The air of bruised dignity hanging heavy about his shoulders.

There were no words exchanged as she readied his plate, taking care so nothing was wasted. She could feel his eyes upon her as she sat it before him along with his morning drink.

She shook her head and smiled as with a wink he set upon his meal as though he had not eaten in a week.

“To see you, one would think I never take care of you,” she said laughingly and reached out to stroke the fur between his ears.