The Diner
The waiter asks, “What would you like?” The man says, “What I had yesterday.” The waiter pauses, looks out the window, and replies, “You cannot have it.”
The Park
An old man sits on the park bench watching pigeons. “What are you doing?” I ask. “Waiting,” he says. “For what?” I ask. “For them to get tired of it,” he replies.
The Museum
The sign says, “Do Not Touch.” A child touches it anyway. The child is not punished. The sign, having been touched, is no longer the same sign.
The Street Corner
“The sound of one hand clapping is the sound of my daughter's karaoke machine,” one says to the other.
The Street Vendor
The street vendor sells hot dogs as if they are little prayers. He gives each one its due reverence with mustard and onions and a moment of silence before wrapping it in a paper napkin.
The River
The loud voice of a siren fades. The next one takes its place. A river. Is the source the “Lake of Emergencies?”
The Shadow
The shadow of a fire escape ladder. A staircase into the sky. No one climbing, just the shape of escape.
The Message
Someone has written “Forgive me” in the dust on a car window. It is a small, quiet offering. The city offers no reply, only more dust.
The Conversation
The homeless man talks to himself. It is a conversation that must be very interesting since it has lasted so long.
The Cup
The empty coffee cup sits on the park bench. It has had a busy morning, filled with ambition, and now it has found its peace.
The Argument
A couple argues on the sidewalk. Their words are small, sharp stones being thrown. The city, a large, indifferent river, immediately swallows the ripples.
The Heart
The sax player in the subway station plays his heart out, but the train’s heart is bigger.
The News
The newspaper box is empty. The day's events are over. The emptiness is the longest story of all.
Thoughts
The man in the park is feeding the squirrels. He thinks he is being kind. The squirrels think he is merely fulfilling his purpose.
The Umbrella
The broken umbrella in the trash can is a little bit of failure, a little bit of surrender,
and a little bit of blue sky that will never be seen again.
The Bicycle
The broken bicycle chained to the post is a lesson in letting go. It is no longer a bicycle.
It is a conversation with the elements.
The Rain
The rain begins again, a long, hushed conversation between the sky and the city. The city does not reply, but its windows are listening.
Nominated for the Eric Hoffer Book Award, twice for the National Book Award and three times for the Pulitzer Prize, J.R. Solonche is the author of more than 50 books of poetry and coauthor of another. He lives in the Hudson Valley.
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These were lovely and def describe my experience in nyc
"The Umbrella" is a gem. Thank you.