Monday, June 25, 2012

sex, death

One regret I have about not having been born a man is never being called a gentleman. 
I think of menopause as the end of biological usefulness. The dizzy faltering, the ache, the everything. 
Cesar Vallejo expected to die on a Thursday, as he wrote in one of his poems. But he died on a Friday, Good Friday, “aching without explanation.” 
Every year when my kids’ birthdays arrive I remember the German word for placenta is “Mutterkuchen,” literally ’mother cake.’ 
If I were a man, my pants would be waiting for me when I woke up. Right where I left them. Rumpled on the floor. 
Forming a church. Maybe a steeple. 
My mother finds it a tragedy when a man goes bald. She never fails to comment - ‘Oh him, he went bald.’ An old boyfriend of mine, a client at her firm, has not escaped this fate, she tells me. Rather, she whispers it to me, as if I were in on a joke.


Kathleen said...

Oh, dear, now I'm going to be thinking about Mutterkuchen.

Andrew Shields said...

Here you go: You're such a gentleman! That's one regret ticked off your list.

SarahJane said...

much obliged, sir!

Carol Steel 5050 said...

Interesting thoughts. I like the progression of observations and humor.

Andrew Shields said...

I was hoping you'd say "Milady."

Emmanuel said...

Sarah, I like your thought about "Mutterkuchen".
I hope not to become bald


SarahJane said...

emmanuel, i am sure you'd be beautiful with or without hair.

Emmanuel said...

Sarah, merci pour tes beaux mots.
but trust me, i'm so hairy that i won't become bald. (not like george constanza)

SarahJane said...

you are well blessed. smile.

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