Thursday, January 7, 2021

The little girl in the pink shirt


Lilith and I went out for an afternoon walk; the light not quite golden, but still bright. We walked to the cemetery, where I wanted to ask the trump-supporting local Pacific Islander guard what he'd meant a couple weeks ago by "it's going to be wild." But I know. He meant yesterday. He wasn't working today. As we turned into our "court" (which is actually a parking lot), we saw a woman coming toward us with a small blonde child, cute as a button. I was pretty sure she was the woman I'd seen up the hill wearing a Trump shirt, consulting her cell phone yesterday. She smiled. I smiled. Her little girl, in stroller, had on a pink shirt that read TRUMP 2020. I blurted, eloquently, "Trump? Awful!" "He's amazing, isn't he?" she said. Neither of us stopped to talk. As she got to the street, she yelled, "Who's your guy?" To which, with every rhetorical flourish I ever learned achieving my Ph.D., I responded, "Anybody other than Trump!"

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