Tuesday, outside of the Mckeesport YMCA.
An older guy holds the door for me as I'm leaving. He says three things to me, and I respond normally to the first two.
I'm five feet away. "Stay warm".
I'm fifteen feet away. "And merry Christmas".
I'm twenty five feet away. "HEY! Don't over decorate!"
He pauses for acknowledgment, I pause for clarification. We walk away from each other without either of those things.
Thursday, Speedway in Crafton.
I exit the store and nearly step on a living, breathing rooster. He is picking the sidewalk for chewing gum and cigarette butts.
"Hey, little buddy. Who do YOU belong to?"
He says nothing. He is a rooster.
Friday, Homestead.
I see an eleven year old kid walking along Eighth Avenue stop, put on headphones and start dancing REALLY hard. He's doing that thing where he looks like a robot drifting backwards in slow motion zero gravity. I don't know what you call that, but it's my favorite dance. There's no one around him. And his eyes are closed. So he doesn't know that I'm screaming "you are fucking awesome" as the light turns green.
No comments:
Post a Comment