On Queen east a lovely young woman in a yellow sundress looked stern, concealed behind her sunglasses. Her hand, clenched like a fist, firmly gripped her skirt so that it would not blow-up, caught by the wind. She looked so angry, as if the thought that her beauty might be revealed so arbitrarily and to those so unworthy, disgusted her.
A moment later, an old handyman shouted out something about the wind to an elderly woman crossing the street. She responded by flapping her arms in the air, the loose skin beneath undulating, “I might just fly away,” she smiled in an unexpected Southern accent.
And then a couple– the girl in love with Dachshunds– stopped to shower our dog with love and attention. We chatted for a moment, and before leaving she cheerfully added, “they have trouble with their backs!” happy to have contributed her knowledge to the ever expanding universe.
On our way to the Starbucks we passed the bank, the security guard out on the steps fanning herself. She made some pleasant remark about the heat, and it was lovely to see that her choice was the light, to stand outside amidst the strum and flow of the street, rather than indoors where it was cool and air conditioned.
In the coffee shop a girl who looked like Snooki butted in line and I shot her a hard look. Her face changed when she got the look, both hardening and weakening at the same time, and I realized that if you receive enough such looks in your lifetime it would ruin you.
At Ed’s Real Scoop the girl at the counter seemed sad, casting longing glances out the window, and so I told her not to worry, that she would be off soon. Happy to share her pain, she told me that she started at her other job at 5:00 am. I whistled and told her that soon enough she would own the world, to which she replied, “that’s the goal, that’s the goal.” Her fingernails painted green, long and curved upon the counter.
Passing through Jimmy Simpson Park I met a mildly handicapped man who was excited by our Miniature Dachshund, Heidi. Bald and in coke-bottle glasses, he kept pointing at our dog, “That’s a hound, sir, that’s a hound!” We spoke for perhaps two minutes, and he was happy when we parted company saying, “You have a good day, too, friend!” Ahead of us, the care workers who had just picked up one of his companions from a fall, were looking back at us, initially with irritation and concern, but looks that soon softened sweetly into tenderness and relief.