Ass, Fangs and a Tiara
As I continue to write about my observations and interactions with the homeless people of Oregon, I try to remind myself to include moments of levity when they occur.
And they do occur, let me assure you...such as...the other day...when...
I strolled a city sidewalk. I stopped at a stop sign intending to cross a busy street.
Looking left, I saw nothing. Looking right, I saw something. Yeah, it was really something: four corpulent, scantily clad, white women with red, purple, blue and orange streaks in their hair were barreling straight toward me.
Vehicles zoomed by on the street. I couldn't cross. The women moved closer. As they came into clearer view, they exuded the unmistakable aura of having just emerged from the homeless encampment located in a nearby swamp teeming with ducks and beavers.
I stepped back to let them past. They passed me in profile and I could only see half their faces. But I heard them. They were engaged in a very animated conversation. From what I gathered, it was about sex. One of the women stopped abruptly. She wore red nylon shorts. She began simulating sex with someone she'd recently had sex with by thrusting her pelvis back and forth with remarkable vigor.
The women yukked it up, hooted and hollered. They were high fiving.
I caught this act from behind, and at some point, the woman with the red shaking ass must have sensed I was watching because she whipped around and stared at me. I took her measure: she wore toy fangs, a black sports bra and a tiara.
The woman gave me a knowing nod and then whipped back around and continued on her way with her friends. I stood there, watched them walk away and began laughing.
What does a writer do with such an incident? Where to begin? Or more importantly, where to end? Just leave it at the ass, fangs and tiara exiting down the sidewalk and the writer just wondering what the hell was going on, without the possibility of ever knowing?
Yeah, leave it at that. Leave it with me laughing.