theory: "I am what is around me . . . "

he sat in a large upholstered chair

a cafe table beside his elbow

on the table was a smoking cup of spicy black coffee

on his knees laid his writing board and paper

he held his inevitable pen keenly  like a razor  in his hand

he sat in a popular coffeehouse and sat where he afforded himself a view of the shops entry

and without  through its broad clean windows  and within

overlooking most of the other tables and chairs

he also sat alongside where an occasional line of patrons assembled waiting to order and be served the varieties of hot and cold coffee teas and concoctions

sweets fruits and sandwiches were displayed at their hips and beckoned from a purring bank of white cooling appliances

his ears were tickled by the hum of closeheld conversations and smatterings

brief percolations of laughter

and over these laid strands of piped music like lace to bind the whole of the shop into some Common or Market minting orgasmic reveries

piqued by caffeine Torani and fragrant steamed milk  conducted and manipulated by house baristas and an insistent chorus of clerks

moment by moment stories were either hinted at or revealed themselves

some sly  eerie  some outrageously provocative  and others devastatingly poignant

they happened faster than he could witness and wriote

but to-day  this day  riotous under dark unexpected rain and the sharp tines of hail

an odd thing occurred

odd  perhaps by perceptions no longer applicable  yet no matter 

                                                                                                he found them offensive

young women were affording young men coffees and sweets on sleek credit or debit cards flashed from their coloured purses or wallets

an affluence that was not theirs

they were not much beyond their milk teeth

and what was theirs were apparently afforded by their parents in absentia who either ignorantly or negligently  coddled their daughters

 

frankly   what were they teaching them

what were these sons taught

that these . . . transactions . . were legitimate and not contrived

and their seemingly conscious participation in their renditions   its guilelessness   

or duplicitousness   

suggested to him their Slutwalks had faltered and in their stead their faces were to be fucked   their legs split wide and agape   their asses for fondling and grabbing

did they think so little of themselves

or was to-day simply a bad day  the inexplicable weather running out those who were ignorant or thoughtless

he managed his knee-jerk irritation  struggled     then cooled off and observed

when he quit the coffeehouse the tally was three to none

three smiling young women abetted by smiling young men

men  --  or so-called  --  never once going to their pants pockets for cash or alluding in conversation  --  at least that he overheard  --  and he was listening hard  --  that they were short or it was their treat the next time

 

instead they acted as if they were some prize worthwhile having and in the meantime   derogatory   to the stature that real men would bring to the table

with his writing board and paper stabbed up in his armpit and walking out he muttered

--   Slacked-spine lily-livered 

(Christ  -  hed never conceived of lily-livered before)

                                                                                                                    little pricks

at home with his girlfriend they prepared a good meal  he cooked for them

over dinner they talked laughed and confided their days

he didnt make the afternoon a nuisance

she would read it later when he wrote it

    when they went to bed they made love  keen to pleasure each other  and exhausted they slipped into dreams that swelled and roiled like slick soap bubbles glinting in warm blue sunlight and shined cool by silver moonlight against the black void of outer space   

1600,  Friday,  8  2. 13

Wallace Stevens