Opera night in the tenderloin

Opera night. I put on the suit I got in Vietnam. And then I went to Dream of the Red Chamber. So many steps at the hall. So sheer. I thought of how the Aztecs would roll corpses down the pyramids. And if I would be beside them. I was up in the top right in the nosebleed section, and I could see the nosebleed. I was so conscious of my nose, the feeling that it was dripping. The hook of it. The actors were too forced, and I could see why opera is a dying art. That it has greatness in it. But it’s too late. Halftime rolled around and I itched. A thought came to me. I went down to the box seats and sat in one empty. Two women came to my left in the other box seat. A little gap between us, so close yet so far. I asked them their names and they said Barbara, and I burst out laughing. The society in the dinners and Lake Tahoe and the benefits. And the concert for the poor children, it all burst out of me in laughter. And I perceived something. I asked, can I join you? And they said as they…

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