(Acrylic on found board, 20"x5")It's six-thirty, complete daylight. She doesn't appear homeless. She wears clean clothes and carries a leather purse. Maybe she's drunk. Whatever. She's definitely enjoying a nice, long leisurely whizz ten feet from my gourmet salad, albeit through plate glass.
Disgusted, I look away, but the old lady is taking her sweet time, and I keep glancing up to see what other folks think about this improvised street performance. But the few people on the sidewalk walk by with a kind of dazed disinterest. And nobody in the restaurant seems to notice except me.
She finally drops her skirt, moves to the bus bench and takes a seat. I try to finish my meal, but have no appetite. On the way home I wonder why I was so disgusted. If it had been a dog, I would've been fine. I realize I'm a specie-ist. (Like a sexist only with species) But then I think no, if it had been an attractive, young woman, I probably would've been strangely aroused. So I'm just a ageist. Phew.
P.S. Next time you're at Tender Greens, order the Southern Fried Chicken Salad -- and sit in the back.
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