Tuesday, April 5, 2011

And I walk through the streets I love

Yesterday: the kind of day that’s an imperative to keep moving. Heeding it, I walked across the Brooklyn Bridge to drop off my manuscript, then walked right back again over the Manhattan. I feel a bit like Benjamin Braddock in these moments; traveling one way to the strains of “Parsley, Sage” and then—cut—back again, same tune as ever. Perfect bridge weather, low fifties. I see a fast-moving woman and follow along behind her, glad to hand over the decision work of bobbing and weaving. I pass one guy, lone parade, carrying a placard for n+1. And then get near-about trampled by a march of union workers. Ah, Brooklyn. please let me skip a line?For my return route, I hit the Manhattan Bridge, the Brooklyn’s secret cousin. Here, the foot traffic’s minimal, commuter rather than tourist. I wonder why more of the tourists don’t hit up this walkway, what with the Brooklyn’s current cover of construction boards. Maybe the sway and rumble of the trains has something to do with it. I strain to hear Belle and Sebastian over the power surge of the Q. c'mon, please? why won't you let me skip a line?Then back in lower Manhattan, the neighborhood embodying spring. The rock sculptures on the median a saluki, a nativity, a symphony. Old men doze on benches or chatter into cell phones while the young overspill the cafes, trendy Atlas overflowing onto the sidewalk. I pick up a cupcake for my mother who’s sick in bed; I pick up a copy of my friend’s zine from Bluestockings. I wander into a deli to get a coconut water; by the time I step out, the sky’s darkened. These things always happen suddenly. c'mon already, why won't you let me skip a line? I like paragraphs. This morning, I step out the door, note the spooky sky, and immediately it opens on me. There are cherry trees again; the ones by Columbus Park are already working up a bloom.


  1. "These things always happen suddenly"
    - true and beautiful -
    I love this whole post.