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Eventually, the man suggests hauling some buddy over for a threesome and the only reason you say yes to the idea is because you have associate been drinking associate wine all the hot afternoon. Then you stop. You stop because you have spotted an advertisement for corn in an open magazine. And the cob is plump and yellow, it glistens associate on a shiny plate. And it strikes you: this is not real. You learned to eat corn from a roadside vendor. Standing in the shade of a bus stop the vendor dipped half a lime in chili and salt and smeared the corn. You picture the thin vendor, his shoulders hunched, the chili and salt caked under his nails. You couldn’t wait for the first bite to sting your weak gums. The grit wedged itself between your teeth. You enjoyed it. You tossed the naked cob at your friends. You kicked it around. At this point, the man explains that the friend in question has full-blown AIDS and that the least one can do for a dying friend is allow him to watch.
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