Looking down
26th Street in Chelsea
(4:28 on a Sunday afternoon,
88 degrees and sweaty and
pressed on all sides by
the normal, vast humanity of
Manhattan),
as if it wasn't enough to be
seduced already by
vegetation,
Hudson breeze
and third-story perspective
(which I never thought necessary
until now),
there needed to be
this unnecessarily-suited cellist
bowing-out
this Bach cello suite
and this man in a scally cap
taking out his earphones
to record a new tune.
Yes.
It was kind of perfect.
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