Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Snapshots From A Day

Long bus rides to the foreign lands of the Upper East Side carrying precious cargo and reading about the creation of Mormonism. Well-coiffed older ladies sit near the front. Cell phone wielding businessmen stride toward the back of the doubled vehicle. I cannot see where I belong and wind up too close to one and too far from the other and unable to see the street signs.


Indulging in a bus ride home in deference to my heavy shoes I am treated to a carnival ride. We reach the speed of light by mid block and screech to a halt at each red light. I keep my feet and feel like a famous surfer but wonder if I wouldn't have been better off foot-wise to have walked.


A drink on the sidewalk outside a local restaurant with the elderly dogs ecstatic to lounge at our sides keeping tabs on the passersby. The waiter and busman bring a large bowl of water for each dog before we're even asked what we would like to drink.

That is as it should be.


A phone call with a friend, spewing all the niggling icks I can't say here or much of anywhere these days. I unpack my suitcase and clear away my extraneous living room cosmetics while we talk. I barely notice the work.


To save the ravaged skin of my arms I trick the Anna cat into a pedicure. I finish and she doesn't run away. In all her eight years that's a first.

Small victories these days. Small victories.


  1. Bus ride did sound a bit jarring.

    Loved how you wrote all this. Felt like a poem.