Friday, May 17, 2019

They Can’t All Be Deep

After several weeks of eating lunch in a sort-of park (really more a patch of grass with some public art and a couple of benches) that took almost fifteen minutes to walk to from my work, today I ate lunch in Fort Greene Park, which is a real-ass park, with hills and paths and trees and lots of grass and a graceful, tall memorial to the Prison Ships Martyrs. It was less than five minutes away.

I climbed up some stone steps and followed a coarsely graveled concrete path to a bench where I sat and ate a sandwich while, far below, the Mr. Softee ice-cream truck played it’s cheerful, incessant song over and over.

I was reading while I ate, so it took me a while to notice that I had dripped a little bit of food on my pants; then it started to rain.


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