barefoot in the snow

Moments in Washington Square Park ....

barefoot in the snow

She was sitting there on a park bench, wrapped up in a parka and scarf, eyes pointed toward the ground. Sitting there and doing nothing. Not talking, not humming, not eating, not even looking around. Silent, still and dressed for the Arctic.

I walked by her slowly, not wanting to disturb her peace. The old woman seemed content being there on the bench, and as I went by I let her stillness become my own. The stillness of just trying to be alright with the moment, with the everythings and nothings going on in the world.

And then, as I had almost finished passing her by, I looked over and saw --

naked feet.

Fat and bare flesh, sockless, shoeless, dangling out in the air. Sausage toes. Wiggling.

The woman had lined her shoes up neatly under the park bench, a tidy little row of brown boots. There was some sort of beautiful logic to it all, and for a minute part of me wanted to join her and start a revolution of shoeless winters. But then the feeling passed and I walked on, out of the park and back into reality.

the singing man and his joint

I didn't know anything about him except that my friend was talking to him, and loudly. They were sitting in the twilight of the park, talking over traffic and taking turns jamming on guitar, laughing loudly and reeking of marijuana.

When I saw them I was mad. Not because they smelled too obvious or that their laughter had the people walking by staring at them; it was nothing like that. I was simply afraid, because here was a strange man sitting with my friend, someone I didn't know who had broken into the peace of the night that I had hoped to spend in privacy.

I sat down by them and listened to the two of them talk crazy things. The stranger was middle aged, a little crazy, a little happy. He called me Mary Magdalene and spoke of how it was she who had really run Jesus's show. He said -- it was all the women, you see. It was all the women who made civilization and made things right. Jesus would have been no where if it hadn't been for women. Religion needs women. We all need women.

He kept singing songs on his guitar for the people walking by. My friend joined in too, egging me on to try, but I kept quiet, letting the pair revel in their own music world. Maybe I was just doing what women do, keeping the natural order of things on track. Trying out my new status as silent ruler of the universe. Needing no one.

After a time I said I Had Things To Do. My friend got the hint and together we got up, shook the stranger's hand and wished him luck. As I walked away the man said -- it's the women in the world who keep it together. They keep it all going.

fat dog

In the summer I saw a man carrying a bulldog in each arm. His face was red and sweaty like he'd just been out for a walk, and the dogs looked slobbery and content, like they had just taken their master out for a stroll.

The man gave me a smile when he saw me watching, and together we both shared a moment of amusement over how two dogs can control a grown man.