Bouquet

I have seen things today.

Like the man pictured below on 37th and Broadway at about 2:30 p.m., when I walked across the street to Starbucks. He was shouting, “Hi! Here I am! Hi!”

On 82nd and West End Avenue, later this afternoon and strewn at the side of a pre-war building on the northwest corner, there was a collection of six or seven children’s items on the sidewalk: two pairs of pajama bottoms (one was camouflage), one plastic abacus, a shirt, a pair of sneakers with the shoelaces still tied. The building Superintendent, a short man with thinning hair, came from under the forest-green awning to join another man. They both looked up, and I saw the Super mouth the words, “Fifth floor.” He had a grease stain on the front of his blue work-shirt.

Catty-corner to that, there was an espresso-skin man with a brilliant bouquet of balloons—pink and white and some silver. The sun, retreating over the Hudson, shone against them, and the man’s face disappeared behind them as he looked south on West End to see if he could cross.

photo: Howard Freeman

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