Focusing
upon a pink angel trumpet
a
man reaches to pluck the flower
I
beg, “Please leave it for others!”
[Laissez-la pour les autres, s.v.p. !]
but
he gives it to me
and
walks away
I
jostle my camera, my pack, the flower
my
foot leaves the curb
two
women on the crosswalk busybody
into
my vision, “Watch out!
Did
you get that flower from there?”
pointing
to the exotic tree
“Wash
your hands!
Don’t
touch your eyes, you’ll be sorry!”
I
drop the flower
Wash
my hands
twice
at McDonald’s
shop
up a candle
a
stainless steel pot
to
boil water
I
pass a boy humming
his
own happy song
a
toddler riding a suitcase
like
a rodeo cowboy
I
feel happy for no reason
a bicyclist sings
“C’est la magie !”
[It’s
magic!]
speeding
down hill
I
hum the boy’s song
find
his notes on piano at home
fall
asleep reading evening news
awake
at 3 a.m. — a flash of text
Susan
crying in Weaver Street Market’s ice cream section
her
Aunt Penny’s death echoes others
her
first White Russian
a
beer
a
parting glass
of
Earl Grey
of
rosé
of
sherry
shots seen from around the world
photos Nice, 2018
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