"Can I take your picture?"

Sometimes I like to ask this question to strangers. The answer varies. Fitting, I presume. Some question what for. Some hesitate a moment before agreeing. Some smile immediately. Some protest that their makeup isn't just- something- or that they've forgotten to wear it today. I just smile, offer a retort and hold up the lens. No one has ever said no (yet).

Those strangers you pass by every day (and their scruffy dogs)-
This is life.



I know a little girl on the brink of excitement or despair at all times. The zest she brings to life is palpable. This afternoon, her excitement is mixed with despair. A rolled up caterpillar she rescued from the port a potty might be dying- and she wants me to hold it, I mean "BITER" the name she's given the creature in honor of its big invisible teeth.

I look at the black and orange fuzzball.

"MY PET'S NOT MOVING!" She shrikes. "HELLOOO???" Her curly hair inches from my face.

Revive yourself, Biter! Make a move! You're this 4 year old's most critical concern and captive audience and she's not joking.

Caring for big things and small ones-
This is life.

If it's possible to die of an overdose of onions, garlic, and more onions, I might. And that's all I have to say on that subject. When I was young one of my favorite snacks was a can of sardines. Since then, I've branched out a bit from canned sardines when it comes to what I like to eat but sardines will always have a soft spot in my heart. And heck if I'm in the mood, a can of sardines it is. I figure garlic onion sardine breath is just apart of this sensational life and I choose to embrace it. What I'm saying is, I'll choose garlic every time. The aftermath may be the death of others, but it won''t stop me. (can I get an amen?)

For fifteen minutes I unfold out on the grass. Enough cars and driving. Enough lanes and blinkers and commutes. Impromptu grass crash, if you will. I park the car, walk on the grass and stretch out.

Soggy grass bright sun
ants crawl over my legs. Who cares?
My open book in my hands
pages are blinding white, too bright to read.
So I watch instead.
Grass blade shadows edge the thin paper like a jagged crown.
Look at these beautiful line shadows! all across the pages.

Grass crash, sun splash-
This is life.



Music lulls the coffee shop packed like a terminal on Christmas Eve. People don't have a place to sit. There's not enough tables, but there are empty chairs. A man walks up, drops a bag on the chair across the table where I'm typing. "Sitting here?" No, I'm not using that chair. Then he walks away. His daughter comes back and slips into the seat. We share the 24 by 24 inch table at the coffee shop. It is small, but there is room. When her colored pen falls on the ground and she sighs, I pick it up and hand it back to her. She smiles.

Making room for someone else-
this is life.




And so on, and so on, and so on.

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