The Ladies

I think one is sinking deeper into middle age (I'm 39) when women, who in my prime (it was for about six months in the 70's) who once looked at you, then took another look, and then if you were lucky offered you a smoke and a beer (shows they just don't care) and you're off to a night of carnival pleasures not seen since John Barrymore died in "The House Of Mirrors", stop looking so much.

I was at the 7/11 today (they let me buy my stuff and leave without having me fill out a verbal requisition). I gathered up my goodies (goodies) and came here to the library to post so you people will know I'm still alive (completely, so far) and still have time later to look out my #4 window at the couple across the way doing something.

Back to the ladies. There were two today who looked at me, then as I looked at them, they just kept on moving (they were not that fat) and did not look again. I object to this. I miss the days when a girl who might be interested in you (not knowing what mysterious icckies your body held) looked the first time, and then looked again, and maybe even again, until you smiled.

I guess I could pay them.

Joey Postove