Park It

Bare trees. Hugging each other silently. Praying for sun.
One green lamppost curling over to wink sexily at a welcome blue sky. Scattered brown leaves knowingly ripped by a gust of playful wind.

Capture that moment of fragility on film.

Capture the frail old man huddled in a corner, head down, hoping for a coin or two from well muffled fat cheeked strangers sauntering by with well fed dogs on a leash, that flash him a triumphant look as they trot by -clean white doggy bodies in orange jumpers.

Beautiful morning really.

Strutting around in Central Park to Bach's Air on a G string on headphones. Watching determined joggers in crimson shorts, cyclists in electric blue helmets streaking by,patient mothers proudly heaving baby buggies up the slopes, mooching couples disentangling only to chase a spot of elusive sun, and...a solitary woman in a long black coat,dark hair windblown, looking straight at you- unblinking, unfazed,unanswered.

Yesterday's smile still lingering somewhere behind the smooth pale cheeks, and tomorrow's tragedies lurking in that steady line of gray smoke curling off the tip of a long white cigarette in delicately trembling ruby encrusted fingers.

Minus three degrees windchill. No snow yet. Welcome smell of a juicy hot dog wafting on a slow breeze. The blue pen drops from my freezing fingers. Tip of nose red and numb like hell. Fish out neon green gloves quickly!

Black man passes by."Would you be so kind as to lend me a dollar?" Stare straight back and say, "actually sir, I was thinking of asking you the same." Disappears less politely than he had appeared.

White man appears. "Got a cigarette for a stranger?" Smile apologetically and say, "sorry, down to my last one". He nods sympathetically and walks on cursing softly.

Time for a double shot espresso.
Time for a telephone call.
Time for another shot at life.


Someone tell her to get off that park bench and stub that damned cigarette out.