ally (scattertheory) wrote in rooftops,

  • Music:

our parks have goats, i hear...

on the 49 up the hill this afternoon, it took me awhile to notice this man standing crookedly by the back door. he had entered in business casual: navy blazer, linen khakis, a turquoise polo even, brown loafers. his forehead had been tanned by the summertime to a bronze sheen; grayed hair horseshoed around it. from his knee he attempted to balance two iron mountain cardboard boxes, filled fully, the top overflowing with dusty & nicked plaques. a woman seated taps him with a hasty, polite offer of her seat. he smiles almost demurely, patterned almost by resignation, "i dont think that will help me much, dear." i watched him without regard, carelessly, as he maneuvered around during each bend of the billows. in one hand, he gripped an outdated silver phone; in the other, a golf club--appropriately enough, a driver. midway up the hill--lets say on summit?--a text alert beeps. "do you think he was fired?" well, you certainly dont quit a job intending to carry these clumsy boxes back to wherever it is you live. i lower my sunglasses then so i can wonder somewhat shamelessly. the lad next to me carries on tinkering with his blackberry, a rigid laptop bag stuffed between his knees. he doesnt even glance up, doesnt even notice. oh well. to me, this is just another day, strung along against the next.

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