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grannies in black

so i'm at my favourite place, unlike Wal-mart, the YMCA. 
why i like the Y: people at the Y, the patrons anyway, are usually gregarious talkers and interested humans who wear worn out swim suits, dirty shoes and make use of the complimentary Dial anti-perspirant. today i saw two aged women emerge from the showers, their large saggy crepe-laden nude bodies waddling towards the locker room where their daily routine unfolded. you can tell people with a routine, i know, i'm one of them. (i always take either the locker  furthest from the action or closest to the aisle and escaping, although with the aisle you're constantly swishing your bare-naked ass out of the way for passer-byers.) the grannies revealed their 
preference not only for the aisle but the entire shared bench; sensing i was encroaching on their territory i made myself small and invisible while they dressed. they had matching short haircuts and black pants and t-shirts that read, "women in black" on the front, and "war is not an answer" on the back. they were of an age to have experienced war first-hand, either themselves or a brother, father, perhaps a lover. and i thought of Johnny Cash, the "man in black" and the song lyrics..."each week we lose a hundred fine men...and things need changin' everywhere you go." i wanted to cry. lovely peculiar ladies...

have a happy warm heart felt thanksgiving
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