futurebird's Diaryland Diary

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the spinster

Yesterday I saw a parrot on the subway. It was rainbow coloured bird with a long tail that almost whisked the floor. It had two bright black dots for eyes. It’s camouflage plumage was designed for flowered forests not subways. Now and then he would beat his clipped wings to get the attention of his owner.

Closer to me kneeling on a bright orange subway seat a girl of 4 or so with twin pigtails read the names of the subway stops in trains from the big map. I always imagined that new york children grew up counting “one, two, three, lex, park, madison, fifth, malcom X, clayton powl, freddie douglas...” now I had proof.

It was a bright ominous day. I was on the F train riding back from the brooklyn half marathon. my legs were talking to me. They were not saying nice things. I sipped my water and wondered what I had to be sad about. I was sad. (I am sad) But here before the whole earth seemed to be waking up. Offering the best things it could to me: sunlight, bright children and birds of paradise.

Where, o lovely world, is the friend I had dreamed I would have made by now?

I’m a spinster. I married a dead dream.

9:20 a.m. - 2002-03-10

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