Exuberance of kids hanging out of limo sunroofs at two a.m.,
shouting. We're walking a bit of sobriety into ourselves this
cinco de mayo
so we can drive home; arms around each others' waists, singing
Wake up Little
Maggie and
Powder Blue Sedan all through downtown and to the waterfront.
Behind chain-link, concession tents are dim and deserted. The
fireworks are
all long past. The ferris wheel is unlit. The
cut-paper garlands
feature
Disney characters. It's
someone else's
independence day. We're pretty happy.
Ferris wheels make me think of two songs. One is Jad Fair,
when he talks about the scene in East of Eden where the ferris wheel stops
when they're at the top & they are alone together, up in the sky. Put on your yellow dress. I picture swinging at the top of the ferris
wheel, looking over the Willamette, with a bit of a chill.
All the cars on all the bridges are little lights, full of people. The second
song is Laurie Anderson; she dreams she's dead and her life is turned into a
theme park. In the water, there's a ferris wheel, half in and half out, full
of her ex-boyfriends and their new girlfriends. When they
come back up, they are laughing and gasping for air. I think i would like to
have that dream.
I laugh when they shout "dykes!" at us. The disturbing thing is that M does
not remember the shout the next day (seis de mayo!). Where she
was unconcerned at night, it angers her in the day.
I can touch those kids as much as i can touch the cars going over the bridge.
I can teach them nothing except that i am here, singing, and unafraid. They
don't want to learn, they want to enjoy their night! If cinco de mayo is about
winning when outnumbered, and about liberty, then i will pick my battles. I
think i'm winning. Pbbbbt!