each morning i coax myself out of bed. i think of reasons to stop pressing the snooze button. sometimes i do this aloud, which will be a surprise for the man i marry as i mumble reasons and affirm one, each morning, with an "of course" that shoots my head off of the pillow. this morning cereal prompted my eyes to fight the elixir of half-sleep. honey nut cherrios and whole milk are my vice (one of many). i would have it no other way. quickly suited in highwaisted pants and a grey half-tucked shirt, i wiped off left over mascara and eyeshadow from last night. glasses beat out contacts because they meant cereal was one minute closer. teeth brushed, lips tinted, and hair unwashed i left to work. the morning was strikingly chilled like a foggy glass just pulled from the ice box. which reminds me - i wore a scarf for ten minutes this morning - a miracle considering the record temperatures that have inspired frequent use of air conditioning and lengths of bare skin.
it takes only two streets to get to work (three if you count the .2498467 of a block before i turn in the parking lot). it was at the major intersection that i saw him: black hoodie, black jeans, black boots, blue eyes, and red skin like crumpled paper. homeless. the descent of his hoodie down the back of his head revealed a spotty shave. the whole spectrum of whites, greys and blacks on his head. the numbness of those colors on his face. and in my car - my dirty, dusty car - played a triumphant song. freedom! shouted the singer. and this man passed in black. this man who i have seen in old towne and on corners and always by that denny's. what does he know of freedom?
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