Sitting in the breakfast area of a motel
he loves people watching — people with
swollen eyes, sleepers still in the eyes,
unwashed, unruly hair, pajamas, yes,
pajamas — loud floral tops, contrasting,
not matching floral bottoms, flip-flops,
white socks, scuffed, black leather shoes
tee shirts and shorts. Up and down, up
and down they go to the breakfast bar to
get hard-boiled eggs, fruit, toast or sit
and wait for the beep, beep, beep of the
waffle maker — all the while staring at
their hi-tech phones and watching really,
really cheery, well-coiffed, dapperly-
dressed, T.V. personalities being really
cute while discussing issues like “Should
people be allowed to bring babies to the
work place?” and “Leaky Bowel Syndrome.”
While all this is going on, he thinks about
an e-mail he sent which could have been
misunderstood and misinterpreted, but,
fortunately, wasn’t. And so, he breathes
a sigh of relief and watches an obscenely,
grotesquely, rotund man waddle out of the
breakfast area, into the lobby and down
the hall toward his handicapped accessible
room.