Slides

Let’s look at slides, my mother says. Everyone at the party murmurs their consent, half-enthused. Chairs are set up. The slide projector is warmed up. The screen is unrolled. The lights are dimmed. The first picture is my mother naked, her legs spread open. – Oh. This is where George was born, she says. The second is of me, two weeks old. – This is George, she says. What a cutie! The third is of her, naked, her legs open. – George’s father took that, she says, laughing. The forth is of me, six months old, eating mashed-up pears. – That’s George, she says. Yummy! The fifth is just a close up shot of her spread vagina. – I don’t know who took this, she says. Many have gotten up, and are pouring more drinks, or feeling their way through the dark, bumping into one another, and laughing, thinking they would like to go into the garden and smoke cigars. – I have about six reels, she laughs. Could someone please pour me a gin and tonic?