Wednesday - The Couple
Oct. 5th, 2005 10:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninanevermoreDriving into work this morning, I passed by a couple walking on the shoulder of the road. The woman had a white-tipped cane pushed out in front of her and was holding onto the arm of the man as she walked.
I have a guilty secret to admit: blind people are my favorite handicapped people, because they don't mind if you stair at them. I love that. You can study them, take them in, watch how they react with their environment, and they never get offended.
People are interesting and intriguing to me. I like to watch them, but you usually have to pretend that you aren't seeing them at all. If you strike my fancy to watch, it means that I find you interesting, like a painting or a work of art. I am taking in the poetry of your movement, your conversation, your clothes, your features. It is a compliment, but only I know that and I can't explain to you that it is because you wouldn't understand.
The woman was young, but large. She must have weighed twice as much of the man. She wore her brown hair pulled back in a pony tail. His hair was long, past his shoulders, and braided into corn rows. She was white, while he was what I call "ethnically ambiguous." They both wore baseball caps. He walked on the outside, his arm bent at the elbow so that she could grasp his upper arm for guidance.
They were a poem, walking along the side of the road.
Maybe someday they will make it into my notebook, and then into one of my readings.
But today, they are just a picture in my mind, my memory of this morning, walking along the side of the road on and October morning in Texas.
I have a guilty secret to admit: blind people are my favorite handicapped people, because they don't mind if you stair at them. I love that. You can study them, take them in, watch how they react with their environment, and they never get offended.
People are interesting and intriguing to me. I like to watch them, but you usually have to pretend that you aren't seeing them at all. If you strike my fancy to watch, it means that I find you interesting, like a painting or a work of art. I am taking in the poetry of your movement, your conversation, your clothes, your features. It is a compliment, but only I know that and I can't explain to you that it is because you wouldn't understand.
The woman was young, but large. She must have weighed twice as much of the man. She wore her brown hair pulled back in a pony tail. His hair was long, past his shoulders, and braided into corn rows. She was white, while he was what I call "ethnically ambiguous." They both wore baseball caps. He walked on the outside, his arm bent at the elbow so that she could grasp his upper arm for guidance.
They were a poem, walking along the side of the road.
Maybe someday they will make it into my notebook, and then into one of my readings.
But today, they are just a picture in my mind, my memory of this morning, walking along the side of the road on and October morning in Texas.
