Although he pays no attention to her, she thanks the bus driver. In the food store, her favorite place, she feels drawn to the squash display in the produce section. Raw, cooked, peeled, mashed with butter, she wonders, how does one eat squash. Caressing the hard ridges of an acorn squash, Margot lifts it to her nose.
She smells the earth. Dark, smokey and mysterious. She hears the sound of distant drums. Closing her eyes, she sees the fire. Stepping inside the ring of stone, she feels the bodies, musky with sweat, passing her. She throws up her arms and begins to dance with the other women circling the fire. The ectasy overcomes Margot, she sees a breast, hip, mouth pass before her and she reaches out to touch.
People maneuver their casrts around her. Margot turns the squash over in her hand. After paying, she tucks the squash into her jacket.
As she climbs the steps of the bus, the ridges rub against her rib cage. The bus driver smiles at her. Margot wonders if she can smell the juices soaking her panties.
That night, while caressing the acorn squash, licking the ridges, she feels the urge to split it. Margot slices through its seeded center. Piling the pulp together, she eats each piece as she chops it. Taking the pulp in her hands, she rubs it over her scarred and pitted skin. She faces the mirror and smiles.
SINCE April 23, 2000 YOU ARE UPPITY VISITOR NUMBER 1482