Juxtaposition

Juxtaposition

I am on my bike soaking in the soft moisture of a Spring night. The whole week has left the concrete pregnant with a lot more wetness than dew. It soaks through my sneakers and smears under my nose.

"I should have grabbed a bike light," I say to the darkening fields. 

I imagine them totally embraced by black on my return home. I hope I don't get hit by a truck driver whose eyes can't distinguish me from the fields. 

The thing is even if I had a light I don't think it would bring light to those waiting in the dark. I mean some women I saw along the bike path curving toward the main road–that road that cuts fields, that creates alcoves for McDonalds, and stop offs for truckers. It is the road that is the juxtaposition between great expanses of grass and great intersections of concrete. 

The women are dark for the most part–some with chocolate skin, some with raven-like hair. One has a tutu on and two clips in her hair, but her face is hard. Another juxtaposition.

And I, racing toward an out-of-the-way theater in my sports clothes, flying by them. I don't know if they notice me as focused as most of them are on their cell or ear phones. Maybe they are blocking out the blasts from the traffic. More likely they are blocking the blasts of thoughts that surface during their wait in the darkness.

And I, a juxtaposition upon a position, can't stop thoughts of them from entering my mind. As always when I see sex professionals on the street, worries flood my mind: Who's taking care of these women? How do they know a trucker or serial killer won't leave them lifeless on the side of the road? What if it rains like it had all week? Perhaps that's why they often stand under the roofs of bus stops for the minimal protection they give...

I reach the intimate theater miles from the center of the city and immerse myself in the dance a few feet in front of me. After the performance, I wonder if the women waiting outside have ever danced or got the opportunity to dance now...Would they want to?

Photo: Sinitta Leunen: https://www.pexels.com/photo/bicycle-moving-through-green-plants-in-countryside-4691048/

Text: Kristen Mastromarchi