Sweet Echoes Of Mad Candy
A Walk Along The Park
Trees are sacred in the city.
Skeletons of their summer selves sway and groan above our
heads, while the roots – so deep, yet so shallow – push
through the brick sidewalk. Wet from a constant drizzle,
the bricks reflect on rounded bellies the glow of the sun
behind hazy, gray clouds. The warmth of the light never
reaches us, but the wind cuts through our coats.
Hair around my face.
“Your hair would drive any man crazy,” he says.
We linger. We laugh. We avoid.
The afternoon stretches into evening. I walk slowly to
savor the syrupy feel of his city. It feels thick and slow
only to me, because the day is rushing on its own.
A cluster of students opens up behind us, envelopes us, and
then closes in front of us. They don’t slow to our pace.
They don’t feel what we feel. They don’t mind that the
light is sinking behind the buildings that haunt the
Stories above our heads, a lace curtain flaps in an open
window, exposing scant intimations of the person who owns
this scene every day of the year.
A camera would not capture the mood, and words would spoil
We walk in silence.