Picked a stage and waited:
- Moms pass with kids in contraptions, one pushes a stroller with two up front, the other rides a bike with cargo in back. I prefer a level playing field.
- Black woman in knee high, gray leather boots, too tight woolen dress and a kind of afro hair-do wears glasses.
- Two little girls in red bows and striped attire, both, watch the train arrive, then hop back in to their SUV.
- Guy reading and walking big brown dog with tail curled on up high.
- Black guy texting with one hand, swinging his cheap, cloth shoulder bag in other hand as he walks by leisurely.
- Older guy on bike, in green helmet, takes photo of train by phone.
- One guy in dark glasses follows tiny, skinny kid, no longer a toddler, dressed in blue. They cross the tracks and head toward the coffee shop.
- Couple approaches, walking hand in hand. I am jealous, always loved holding hands. They smile and look therefore less ordinary.
- Church bells ring.
With my dogs, Isabella-girl, who no longer walked very far and Sumo-boy, who was stymied by our slow pace, I sat and watched the comings and goings in my 'hood. Without camera, I simply took notes.
Yet nothing changed by the blue guitar;
Yet nothing changed, except the place
As you play them, on the blue guitar,
Perceived in a final atmosphere;
The thinking of art seems final when
The tune is space. The blue guitar
A composing of senses of the guitar.