Sunday, March 10, 2013

Turning Season

Barely a breeze on the boardwalk, & time to bask in almost-spring rays.  Among silent rides, Cyclone cars thundered the tracks, in trial run.  People stopped to chat.

"I got to 63, and everything suddenly went to shit!"

"This man is from Krakow. The best kielbasa in all of Poland!"

"No no, let her pet the dog. She musn't grow up in fear. No, she's not a dancing dog now. She got too fat for that."

Everyone wanted to make music, and the music was just right.  A band of perma-tanned regulars, some in Occupy Coney Island shirts, played "Here Comes the Sun".  For a bearded guitarist - "You Can't Always Get What You Want".   A middle aged Russian & her leggy, adolescent son, walked arm-in-arm, his head on her shoulder, in sweet, unabashed intimacy.   They murmured softly in Russian, then broke into "God Bless America", stretching the final notes as far far out as they could go, then kissed each other on the cheek in celebration.

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