COMMUNION

There is a group of men I see having breakfast every morning. In Their Corner they sit comfortably apart as Straight Men do, leaning back in their chairs or sprawled on the bench. They converse all together or in pairs. Sometimes one will ignore the rest and read the paper, occasionally adding an aside, while others talk on their cell. They’re youngish, late twenties to mid-thirties, and cover a range of looks from Handsome to Rocker. They seem to have some Style which is what caught my attention initially. Heavy on tattoos, odd jewelry, quirky glasses, face hair, but not in an affected way which isn’t easy to pull off.

They greet Polly and me loudly when we enter. Hey, the Beagle Man’s here! Polly will wag her tail, already smelling food somewhere, and one man will reach from his chair to pet her. I sit away from them to do my crossword puzzle and to avoid the temptation to eavesdrop. Polly will sit next to me, The Beagle Man, and watch them eat.

Something about this group is comforting. Old World, like a group of Italian craftsmen meeting for expresso before starting their day. Maybe woodcarvers or furniture makers (artistic but Butch), the L.A. equivalent being Set Designers or Cameramen. They smoke, talk about their jobs, their women and laugh before sipping more coffee during a moment of reflection. One sometimes commands the floor to relate a story, to testify. I told him I’m not gonna be a part of this, Man. You told your ex-wife you wouldn’t drink again. This is fucked up. He’s wiry with heavily inked arms and seems to favor Ironic t-shirts like “Welcome to Texas”. The others nod in agreement while fiddling with their spoons until Texas finishes and lights a cigarette.

Of course I actually don’t know if they work together at all. Maybe, I think, something else unites them - an old School, an old Band, an old Experience. There is a bond. They meet in a dimension of their own yet life rolls on, leaving them disciples of the connection they created. When they leave, some hug to say goodbye. Others just walk away, seemingly indifferent, confident of the next morning and already looking to the work ahead. It’s not in What they do but Why. It nurtures yet is innately wistful. Is that Love?

Even if none of them sees it, I do. I watch them depart and finish my coffee while Polly looks over to me and wags her tail.

12:16:48 PM    sro home /