Don't Touch It by Anonymous

Mon, Apr 20, 2020

Read in 3 minutes

From the US of A

Every once and a while I’ll scroll through the image gallery archived in my smart phone… it’s like memory roulette. I’ll quickly swipe my thumb upward… land on digital images of myself, or previous surroundings that I had documented with the camera on this mobile device in which I’ve centralized so many of my daily functions. I’m looking at a picture of my friend Leo and I – we were celebrating his dwindling days of bachelorhood… (about three months prior to his wedding) in Denver, Colorado. We were posing with our arms around one another’s shoulders. I had a Miller Lite in my left hand and his right shoulder in my other. Behind us were the rolling hills west of Denver… with ten or so other friends, we joyously waited for a concert to be played at the Red Rocks Amphitheater.

We had a chauffeur drive our drunk asses around that evening… he wandered around while we hung out in the parking lot. He drove a “tricked out” school bus – it was arranged so the seats were on the walls and it was psychedelically decorated. When we were all quite drunk (some experimenting with other things) we assembled in the school bus to head up the mountain to the entrance of the venue… I remember saying: “alright Leo, you driving!?” We cackled… the psychedelic chauffeur eventually hopped in the bus and drove us to the show.

I was sitting on a bench thinking about the guilt associated with touching (perversion aside)… it was not a concern at this time I looked upon… the bench was at an arboretum. I wore a mask as the new protocol… accompanied with a wool hat and a pair of wayfarer sunglasses. I had just looked through a rotating garden kaleidoscope about fifteen feet away… the sun was shining, felt the warmth on the fabric of my mask. A mother and daughter approached the kaleidoscope… the mother said “don’t touch it.” I looked at my hands and thought: “what did I touch?” I left and went to the grocery store… I watched a man feeling the navel oranges – they can’t be too firm or mushy. Is this behavior no longer acceptable? I waited in line at the grocery store… an attendant told me where to stand and let me know when it was fine to proceed to the cashier. I messaged my girlfriend to tell her my whereabouts as I waited.

I unloaded the groceries got in the car and checked my phone before I departed. Her response was: “don’t touch your phone!! wash your hands”