Found: Single baby blue and purple plastic gloves nestled in the grass deer beds lining the shores of Nicasio Reservoir—no, not a fleet of eccentric English ladies tossing perfectly good orphan gloves after their lost mates from a train in those old black & white movies, or modern day dairyworkers tooling down Nicasio Valley Road, littering the shoulders with their single uniformed plastic gloves as I first assumed—as they fit either hand equally. Then it hit me, hand in glove: poor man's prophylactic.
©2010 Maureen Hurley
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