Letter Fragments:

On Writing And Receiving Letters

Transubstantiation is a wonderful word. Technically, the moment a communion wafer crosses one’s lips, it becomes the body of Christ. In our context it is harder to explain. Is it the moment your words reach my eyes that you become real inside of me? I have a vision of a sculpture. Each letter adds another detail, another expression, a slight change in position.

Summer

Two boys on a bicycle. Maybe they’re in their early twenties. It is very hot and they are both wearing pants; the top 1/3 of their boxers are plainly visible. The guy in front is standing up, pedalling. The other guy is sitting on the seat. Their bodies are, by default, very close together on this 100-degree day. They look calm; their expressions blank. The guy who is sitting has his right hand between the shoulder blades of the guy who is pedalling. It rests there. Lightly. And his arm moves as his friend’s body moves but his hand stays just so between the shoulder blades. I watch them as they glide away, and for the block that I can see them that hand never moves. It appears to be an absolutely unselfconscious display of the appreciation of one for the other’s working body. It is both tender and erotic. I feel like I’m spying but I can’t stop watching the two of them as they move down the sidewalk.

Just After 9/11

I was driving home from clinic tonight and heard sirens, so I pulled over to the right side of the road to let whatever it was pass. From around a corner came an ambulance and a fire truck, lights flashing and spinning, sirens howling. The fire truck had an enormous American flag mounted on top of it, lit up for all to see. It was such a grandiose gesture, so American, and absolutely touching. I cried the rest of the way home.