Saturday, November 7, 2009
Waiting for a Bus
There was an old man sitting on a bench, presumably waiting for a bus. Suddenly, as though he had been shot in the back of the head, vomit leaped from his mouth onto the sidewalk in front of him. It steamed up from the pavement. Miraculously, none appeared to have landed on him. There was a little on his shoes, maybe. I wasn't sure. Just then, I caught a whiff of somebody’s fresh laundry. A dryer’s exhaust must have been breathing nearby. In that moment, I was grateful for the direction of the wind.