Excerpt
Inside the small convenient store a divergent world of phosophorescence separates grocery store loneliness from pure night. What is it that excites so much to see the racked bones of a tormented woman dragging her frayed dress against the dusty floor while stepping up to the counter with a loaf of bread and cheese? Why all of a sudden this sudden gust of inspiration? Why this elation leading to a mystical palpation of the heart, if it is not the fecund image of woman in all her glory? In back of the store a beautiful Haitian woman is singing a hymn and cradling a carton of eggs in her lovely brown arms as her sandals go shush, shush, shush against the sandy floor. Looking at all of this it is enough to incite the world to madness, not insanity but a joyful madness, one which the Greeks knew. Looking over my shoulder, an elderly woman with crescent lines woven between her cheeks has lost herself amongst the cannisters of dried milk. I throw back my head thinking, "hallelujah," grabbing a box of powdered detergent and a great, big jug of red wine. In the back of the store the Haitain woman is singing a lovely hymn about the newborn baby Jesus. Casually I walk up to front of the store. Standing in line in front of me a sorrowful creature premature in age, knotted in hair and scarred about the elbows, stands dreamily staring at the flourescent, orange clock above the bald clerk's head. She struggles jostling an armful of items onto the counter. These consist of diapers, Vaseline, tomato soup, hemorrhoidal cream, canned peaches, sanitary napkins and a box of dried potato flakes. Looking at this strange, bewildering creature one was given a glimpse into the tremendous meaning of endurance. Standing there in a daze, I pictured the household that awaited her. I could see her leaning into a greasy hamper as a baby cried violently in a soiled diaper just a few feet away. Now digging through her purse she has the fixed countenance of an automaton while staring down. Like a zombie her course is straightforward, and I realize as she digs for a few loose coins to make up the difference, I realize the strength apparent in woman. All at once this strange epiphany hits me knocking me back into my daze. Looking upon this poor woman one realized how confoundedly hopeless the world really is, yet the strange contentment and bliss that follows is sublime. It is incredible to see how woman carries herself in the face of such wild futility and despair. It is absolutely foolish to believe that man will ever have the capacity to endure the way a woman endures. Only in our women are we next to God. The rest of us are just slobs creating drama which unfolds all over and wide across the deep American night.