Music waits for us at the subway platforms too - xylophone Disney and Broadway melodies, a guitarist smiling through his performance of The House of the Rising Sun.
Being menaced by a sword made out of construction paper.
The whine and sigh of taxis, cars, and trucks on the street below, muffled by window glass.
I sit with my laptop outdoors in front of a dark rectangular pool. When looking up from my work I picture images flickering across the pool, as if it's become a computer screen too, full of scrolling text and pop-up ads.
I'm reminded of why I don't like most non-fat frozen yogurts. They taste like sharply sweet coldness.
What an unreal day, floating around on buses and trains.
The child objects to the stroller. As he's folded into it he screams that he wants to walk. When his hollering turns into frustrated tears I can't help feeling bad for him.