Three. (Ice Cream) James F. is upstairs with a gray eyed girl. He knows a lot of people. And a lot of girls. He says, “D.E. I know a lot of people,” and leaves me outside in the truck. I look up at the windows of the apartment building but all I see are curtains. I don’t even know which window is hers. But know he’s upstairs with that girl with the gray eyes and I’m stuck down here eating mint ice cream in a rusted out ice cream truck, which is our getaway vehicle because who’d suspect? And we have real ice cream and a till so we can put the money in inconspicuous like.
James F. comes back after two hours. He knows I’m angry. He says, “Sadness traps people.” I hate when he talks like that. I can’t understand what he means. “Gray eyes are overrated,” I say. He shakes his head.
Tomorrow there’s another girl and more ice cream sliding down my throat. Cold against the burning.
A few more days
A final Hi meeting
The local neighborhood bar has a quiet time between six and nine. It is a place that specializes in coffee, beer and seasonal menus. There is just enough of each for a satisfying snack and effective buzz. After the time when the laptop lids close and before the social gatherings start -- there is a sort of twilight*. Often this time is a fugitive ground rife with creative inspiration and meditative work -- of the kind that results in personal reward.*twilight may refer to civil, nautical or astronomical variety depending on your social or terrestrial condition
A man positions his mouse on the edge of his browser window. He clicks, holds and drags the viewport first left then right. The content of a video game promo micro site responds and adapts to the available space. To the man, this is more delightful than the game itself.
A man laboriously moves his piano down three levels onto the subway platform. Classic vocals and strided chords -- he played so well I swore he was blind. Oblivious to the heat on that August stage, he was most in touch with his audience -- whom he elevated with his music.
A woman should do exactly as she pleases no matter what a man may think.
As the Dalai Lama once said, "It is a time when there is much in the window, but nothing in the room."
"No one understands me," she said. Her grandmother was silent for a minute. It seemed she was searching for an answer in the star speckled sky. "But no one understands anyone in this world, darling. We are all unique. It is what gives us a sense of wonder."