Monday

I walked, but had a job interview afterwards so there wasn't time to write about it. I left at 9:14. Two women—one in a wheelchair—took turns reading the Times aloud along the Hudson. A dog stared at its reflection in a fountain basin. A boy stopped to ask when "those cherries" had bloomed (behind him the river sparkled).

Tuesday

It was the first day in shorts (no keys or cellphone). Raphael had propped the lobby vents. I spun out from Kristin's close to 8:15. Four or five of us hurried past a neon cinema along the river—no one certain how or why this group had formed. The women's sandals seemed fierce and primitive. The saucy mushrooms in a tipped takeout container somehow resisted gravity. The man in front wore a Houston Oilers jersey with 34 and Campbell printed on its back. My mind kept connecting the number to the name.

I noticed that I space crossing intersections: maybe to avoid any consciousness of taxis. Reemerging I felt like part of the sun. A cop showed her ten-speed to guys in hardhats. A sign read Absolutely No Parking. Moms wearing expensive jeans maintained intense one-on-one connections with kids while chatting just beyond the playground spikes. An older boy fingered through entangled yellow flowers.

Empty barges loomed beneath a little brown aura. I guess I'd missed the haze. Three tall men arched their legs across a rail with each person's shoes pointing out over water. Construction turned part of the path into a tunnel. On the other side someone Chinese stretched in slacks, pink oxford. A woman rode past doing arm circles.

As two female joggers approached the brunette called Five second break? They kissed. A man slowed down to think and the golf cart behind him also paused. In a restaurant window I saw myself—erratic haircut, stocky quads. Damp grass made me wonder when I'd last seen dew. Someone homeless tossed the final bite of his sandwich overhead to ecstatic gulls.

Curving into Battery Park I watched banana threads gleam against a grandma's chin. I tried not to scatter feasting sparrows. The benches had no backs (as if inviting sleep). A supine Arab couple held each other. A gardener named Jose swore and rattled his shovels. His big hair and earring kept me conscious of class. Two Staten Island Ferries crossed paths and this was moving like always. A pig-nosed boy asked his mom if she saw the ships. A tipped Dos X's bottle lay with its remaining beer level. At the park's end Brooklyn Heights slid out in terraces and silhouettes.

Turning back beside an Ellis Island ferry I saw one family sat below, frowning, with hundreds of people above them in the morning light. A woman looked up from a New Yorker beaming. Our connection grew so strong I glanced off guilty. A mountain bike stood next to her, reminding me how exotic South Cove once felt. An Asian guy jogged in a v-neck sweater. Two geese sped north just above the Hudson. Two engineers debated how to spread dirt where the Living Memorial to the Holocaust will stand. The v-necked jogger passed again. The Chinese man who'd been stretching passed with sprouting facial moles. A black man stopped to stare at posts present when the river receded. I told him I've often stood watching this.

I smiled at three business people. The more attractive woman said Last night I didn't feel so dumb. The man said You actually weren't all that dumb last night. Plantings crowded a police monument like a chorus on risers. Gaps dispersed wet pink cherry blossoms.

At a garage I would have waited for the next car to exit but it was a Mercedes so I muttered Fuck you. A "gourmet" delivery truck left me disappointed (saran wrap and non-dairy creamers).

I wondered if stencils along a corporate Asian restaurant really said anything. I wondered if a Verizon truck's Kerry/Edwards sticker violated company policy. Taped to the back window hung a tabloid 9-11 spread: Lest We Forget. Sawed-off pipes in the middle of the road left me wondering what had been there before. A boxy car's side read P.R.CRUISIN. A bald woman sipped coffee.

Wednesday

By the time I finished tax corrections it was at almost eighty degrees. I experimented with the watch I'd found in our recycling room. At 11:19 it dangled from my wrist. Further up my arm it looked funny. With Frankie holding the elevator I hurried down the hall. Mr. Menon (the landlord) said Hello? as I squeezed past boxes.

As I exited one woman sensed she was only wearing a long brown sweater and clogs. She tugged the sweater's waistband further down her thighs. Rice lay in the path's cracked An abandoned stroller made me swerve.

On 114^th I crossed a construction lot, wishing it could stay forever sandy. Amidst plywood a boombox let out rhythmic moans. A worker drank juice from a foil-wrapped jug. Another held his partner's ladder and smoked while sifting through keys. Buckets crashed overhead. My neck scrunched. Tennis shoes dangled from the nearest wires.

I gave up on the plan to walk Riverside Park since at this temperature streets felt in bloom. A Puerto Rican girl more than met my stare. A man carrying his laundry in garbage bags held on as seams showed. The front flap of a woman's skirt fetishized the zipper. Botanica's clerk rinsed his mug with bottled water. Petals drifted from tall podiums where he assembled bouquets.

I glanced towards a barber's looking for men but instead found reflected Heineken bottles. Someone in a short-sleeve oxford sneezed four times then blew his nose. An empty Peter Pan bus passed with a martial arts movie playing. A late-blossoming cherry branch reflected off the bus's tinted rear. Inside a Victoria's Secret shopping bag I noticed albums (records) and a paperback book. Victoria's Secret bags must be sturdiest.

A Baptist congregation declared itself the friendliest church in town. It advertised a film called Climax 2. Trellises along the youth hostel made me want to cry. I'd stayed there in the 90s. A guy with his wheelchair perched against a project wall strained smiling back. I guess he preferred being the one to look. Then there was a soothing row of geraniums.

A soccer field's dimensions puzzled me until I realized it ran one city block. When I checked the time my watch's second-hand jerked. When I jiggled my wrist the second-hand sank. Crossing 96^th I slipped off the watch. Somebody with a cane carried wads of tissue. Someone hauling shovels wore a shirt with Ready Willing and Able printed down the back. A dumpling-restaurant's sign announced A Place of Balance (the phrase appealed to me). A dim store sold used desks starting at $220. Who would ever buy one?

From the glaring heat I coveted two businessmen's samosas. It felt good to pass papayas and Haitian mangoes. Two Dominican guys screamed Hey! into a crowd and somehow the right girl looked up. A separate girl thrust her hips sexually and screeched in people's faces. A British girl answered her mother's question: Love you, mummy. I love you.

Amidst Frederick Douglass homes it grew clear a lot of boys will wear long white t-shirts this summer. Strangers called out from paths and benches. The lawns had somehow already dried beige. The day turned sultry as I reached Columbus. An idling sky-blue truck restored me. So did two Jamaican sisters giggling about the concept latchkey kid. At 110^th and Lenox a lady bent huffing. Her companion glanced off unconcerned.

Thursday

The bottom stairs had been lined with velcro strips. The lobby radio played Rod Stewart's "Young Turks." At 8:24 sticky stuff from trees stood sprinkled across the tops of cars. Fragrant air swept along a block of transparent garbage bags. A frenzied sparrow stuck its beak through a feather and muzzled itself. With his first step in the park one boy lit a cigarette. I tucked my hands into sweater sleeves. Informed-looking women carried umbrellas.

Birds called from rushes: black with blues heads—everyone else probably knows their names. A woman tore bagels then receded behind branches. Sparrows held their ground against a couple seagulls. A frizzy grackle staggered about as if blind.

Cones blocking the Mumford Gate caused me to cringe. But it was just two tiles getting patched. A flyer affixed to the wheelchair-entrance announced The Gardens will be closed Wednesday May 4^th due to our annual Fundraiser Gala. Thunberg Spiraea (I'd grabbed a new Garden Highlights) had sprung up silver. The plaque on one bench declared Happy 50^th Birthday Billy! Another decreed Enjoy this bench with a kind man. Enjoy this day because you can.

Someone sprawled on his stomach photographing hyacinths. After an initial shock it seemed soothing and appropriate that someone bitchy oversaw the Garden staff. Actually, she told a Caribbean man, You're going to scrub this wall. Behind them someone with long blonde hair meditated as if you had to look like him to meditate. All my favorite narcissi had bloomed: Soft Belle, Minnow, Trevithian. Generally this was the reign of narcissi: Jack Snipe, Jetfire, Spellbinder, Jubilee. I couldn't tell which tulips would open as soon as morning sun hit. The creamy Alfred Heinekens stood ready. Some of the Texel Blues did also. Heart's Delights looked smeared, jagged. Magnolia petals overflowed the path. Somebody Muslim and I smiled then she sat with a frown. Surrounding pink made me want to sleep.

At 104^th I watched a sexy teacher slip through yellow caution tape. She tried the Children's Center lobby-entrance. A policeman delicately let this pass. A chauffeur snapped two fingers so fast I couldn't separate myself from the sound. A white boy hopped in place to adjust his bladder. He didn't care about looking gay and I envied how physically present this made him.

Nurses near 100^th St. greeted each other warmly. It didn't seem to matter if they'd never met. A spaniel's serious jogging face resembled its master's. A deli trapdoor rippled like roots under concrete. I would have scanned the top New York Times but there were coins spread to hold the stack down. I wondered if a guy in camouflage was aware right now we're occupying countries. Gadget stores displayed the newest AC models and fans.

Pedestrians crowded in a box of sun between curb and the reach of the widest cars. Someone getting used to a cane never let it touch sidewalk. I spaced out along Park Ave. imagining insulting Antonin Scalia.

Back on Madison a boy broke from his father, finished the trip to school by himself. Back on Fifth the Gardens' gate reminded me of sliding living-room doors. Friendly Café now sold fresh orange-carrot-apple juice hybrids. A scruffy cyclist carrying a backpack became a cop with walkie-talkie. Someone my age in a fedora made me think Haberdashery. Sun-dusted light under The Meer's surface allowed me to both look and think.

Curling into Lenox St. Deli I crashed against a woman's arm. I'd misjudged her breadth. (As always) it was impossible to tell which customers really stood in line. People scratched lottery tickets along both counters. An impatient Asian mom came off looking rude. A slow-eyed cashier beckoned me forwards. Her kindly gesture to indicate Do you want a shopping bag? made me secretly commit to coming back.

Friday

I hovered outside the kitchen curious if Yuki takes her orals this afternoon. On our landing I could barely squeeze past a crib. A barefoot grandma brushed her teeth. A cute Puerto Rican girl chewing a wad of gum spoke walkie-talkie style like she was frenching her phone. Coil and gauze facemasks lay just beyond the lobby. I'd guess this happened around 8:45.

In the park I noticed I was still half asleep, staring at a muddy path, thinking of how alienated we all must be politically. On a footbridge in The Ravine I stopped and listened. Bird songs kept seeming to build momentum. I understood Wagner a little better. A collie split off and strayed beyond the fence but knew what to do when its owners called. A woman clearing branches buttoned hi-tech gloves.

A fiftyish couple hauled farmer's market bags to a housing complex on W. 99^th. The man cinched a support-strap around his waist. I didn't ever want to live in any other city. A Guatemalan boy's gaudy leather jacket spelled out New York in Gothic font. Penguins dangled from his parents' rearview mirror. Pink cherries amidst Frederick Douglass Homes got cancelled by ugly architecture.

As he passed someone with dreads began speaking aloud (I think just to diffuse his inner tension). On Broadway stood melted cars left diagonally along a police station. An Ace Hardware advertised $64.99 Passover Kettles. A Piggyback construction vehicle bore down on me in reverse. I kept drifting further out towards traffic. Finally the driver noticed and waved.

A girl said That's great but I need your love. A mom asked in a stroller How do Jason and Jackson start? A voice cried back J and G! A disassembled grocery store was just cubic space cut by shelving. An Italian restaurant's signboard read God Bless America—twice. Somebody'd left out a pair of spray-painted gold Adidas.

Inside Gourmet Garage I gave up stealing currant scones once I saw they were sugar coated. In line someone young and healthy rode a slender scooter/wheelchair hybrid. His content demeanor fit 9:25. I turned down a grocery bag then asked the cashier for one. That's what I thought, she said, You don't want somebody mugging you for the cheese. It was true; I'd walked all this way for some affordable Irish cheddar.

Passing newsstands I wondered why Big Energy needs tax breaks. A laundromat displayed stuffed animals: Snoopy as the Red Baron and a wrinkled pug. One falafel place appeared fanciest. Cooks scanned the Times at its outdoor table. I peeked under a deli flap hoping to learn the names of late spring flowers. But nothing they sold was blooming in New York. The Hispanic clerk nodded like he understood.

Old men asked specifically for quarters. One pushed TVs in a laundry cart. One Polish mom pushing a carriage looked my way with a sexualized jolt. One Gay City News headline about the pope-elect claimed No Benediction (Dark Days to Come). Under one tall attractive woman I felt like a pauper.

Twin sisters stuck bouquets in the Isadora and Ida Duncan statue. Surrounding tulips would maybe open today. As a butcher crossed coins spilled from his pocket. Squatting he found a pencil that he liked. I avoided stepping on Winnie the Pooh's face although this was just a Dixie cup. A twitching man spoke into his fist: Over here, we have the starlet's house....

A boy wearing a yarmulke said in his phone I'd hear you better if you didn't scream. The mother and daughter I talked with on Election Day passed like total strangers. The hyacinth poking through chicken-wire resembled white asparagus. A leaky hose in front of a doctor's office sprayed several pedestrians. Somehow they never saw it coming. For some reason Luis got paternalistic in the stairwell—making sure his tools didn't trip me up.