She crosses the street after standing at thecorner for minutes that seemed nothing less than hours. He watched ,thinking oflyrics to write. She stood at the corner, jabbing the button of the pedestriansignal box, looking across the street as if to see if perhaps a store shewanted to get to before they closed might have flipped the sign over in thedoor, from "open" to "closed".
As if she could see throughall that traffic.
I know, he thought, a song about a guy watching awoman trying to cross the street while he tries to imagine a lyric he might ormight not write. The irony, he thought, or was it just laziness? All thesebagels are cold and hard as tile. He lights a cigarette, dumps the match in hisash tray. The woman is across the street, and vanished into a parkingstructure.
"May I have another Latte?" he asks apassing woman carrying a tray to the cafe service station.
"I don't work here" she says withoutbreaking her stride.
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Verbal Remedy AKA Denise
John Hughes
Dorinda D.
Paul Levinson
Joan Walsh
Karen Templer
Salon.com
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