Friday, June 4, 2010
Smells like summer
Rosemary scent in my hands, mixed with a little bike grease and a recent paper cut, reach in my bag. They can hold this French bicycle up double-flight of stairs, but cannot hold still to send a text with that cell phone. There it goes, I drop it on the street again. Nothing broke this time. How much coffee did I have today? Lost count, as usual.
These hands maneuver Frenchie through the neighborhoods of this city, and perhaps a mile over that way, where it is sunny. These fog patches are playing hide and seek with the sky. It is a flirting game with the sun. I stop for a second and look this way. I love this weather.
Comes. Goes. Pleases some, confuses most.