novembre ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- things, lately i am crossing the street, the walk signal is flashing. i am in the island between the lanes and a man running a red light is bearing down on me. he slows his car just enough to lean out the window and hiss stay out of the damn road. a puppy in a grocery store, wiggling towards the dairy section, leash slapping against the linoleum. girls with too many shopping bags adjusting straps and handles as they walk. a bus that feels like the ocean when it takes corners. an overzealous musician. his hands in her hair, she did not want them there. dented cell phones. sign language. beer bottles clutched at the neck against hips. an elevator with sensor-rigged doors that open when i walk by. a nervous receptionist muttering about the cease fire ending. michael showalter in stubble and giant sunglasses. pale, short-sleeved scandinavian tourists taking pictures of tiny flower beds with expensive digital cameras. people are watching from the corners of their eyes. 2:45 pm - 04.27.04 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||