Uber Tales (24)

An Uber Love

I stop on a quiet street, a cul-de-sac, but as soon as I touch it they come: One child having lonely fun; two tarts teasing along; three boys chasing a bee; four fat maidens farting a song; five fierce females fixing for a fight; six silly shepherds selling sheep; seven Sicilians looking lost; a car guard; eight girls running as if they’re late; nine nannies pushing prams and ten tannies to boot. I kid you not, sirs and mams. As soon as I touch my dick to have a piss on that quiet cul-de-sac, they all come. They all come to see me pee. I swear.

I suspect I’m feeling like our beloved president. I can’t do anything in contravention of even a city bylaw or somebody is likely to see that shit. It is a good thing, but still I need an honest piss at some stage and now more frequently with age and cold. I’m waiting for you and the hold cannot hold. I take it out and there you are.

So far I’ve just taken the piss to break my blogger’s block.

Jax, in her newfound role as my muse, says I should write from the heart about what love means to me. I go and have a glass of wine with Bert to discuss the matter. We drink several glasses and I say something profound about love. Bert says I should write it down lest I forget it. We drink more wine and I forget. Now I regret.


Love then. It comes suddenly. It turns a five-year friendship into something more, a light touch into an expression of itself, a look into light, light into laugh. Yes, love indeed changes everything. It changes you and I into us. This time is no different, yet it is completely different. It smacks of being the real thing. No whitewater rush, rather a river that flows where it knows it must, calm and clear, now and here.

I pick up a French couple in Melville and they buy me lunch at Wandie’s Place in Soweto where the food is good. I ask them about love. Claude has been married six times and Joelle never. They’re not married. They’re both retired and they ‘only do the good things’ together. They don’t even live together. They’re clearly fond of each other. Is that the love that endures? Each to his or her own and only the good things together? I don’t think so. I’m vaguely disappointed.

Claude asks me if I ever pick up interesting characters. I say no, I only pick up business people, busy with their things on their phones. Claude tells me he has beaten cancer of the worst kind by signing all indemnities for experimental cancer treatment and refusing all removals of organs affected. He says: “I told them: ‘I want to be able to stand up and piss. I want to eat and I want to fuck. If you remove anything preventing that, I’m not interested.”

I see some couples together for a long time are often at each other’s throats, yet, they endure. Is that love? I see others seemly resigned to the fact of their togetherness like a cul-de-sac they can never leave. I see those who are seemingly happy and the next week they leave each other.

I struggle with this because I’m not in love. I love. It is as strange and sweet as a new river flowing through a city street and opening life’s cul-de-sacs and a bridge over all of that. I love you Jax. And it is astonishing. I do not begin sentences with an ‘And’, but for  you I do. For now.





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